The Wizard-Born Muggle
by AKxx
Summary: Octavia Zabini has escaped the torturous expectations of pureblood society, desperate to live out her life in the freedom of the muggle world. Alas, nothing can deter Draco Malfoy from claiming what is his, and Octavia is his most prized possession. Will she succeed in her escape or be tied to a man she loathes to her core?
1. Chapter 1

The Wizard-Born Muggle Chapter 1

* * *

 **Sequel to The Pureblood Squib.**

 _Octavia Zabini has escaped the torturous expectations of pureblood society, desperate to live out her life in the freedom of the muggle world. Alas, nothing can deter Draco Malfoy from claiming what is his, and Octavia is his most prized possession. Will she succeed in her escape or be tied to a man she loathes to her core?_

* * *

Running around in their bikinis, their perky bums just barely covered by denim shorts, Octavia and Pansy squealed and laughed as water poured all over them. The girls gripped tightly onto their soaked water-guns as a group of muggle guys chased them through the streets of Phuket, Thailand, the entire city enjoying water fights with strangers and tourists. It was the day of the Songkran Festival – the Thai New Year – and the entire city was alive with celebratory joy.

So far, it was Octavia's favourite cultural festival. Elephants paraded up and down the roads of the streets, shooting out blasts of water from their waving trunks and soaking the crowds. It was spectacular. Persons of all types, young and old, all races, and all nationalities, ran through the streets, attacking strangers with their water bombs and water guns, everyone as merry as a child on Christmas morning.

This was it. This is what they fled for.

Freedom. Expression. _Fun_.

It had been over two years since Octavia and Pansy had escaped the Zabini Manor in the dead of night, and travelled around the world without magic. They could not risk the trace of Pansy's magical signature. For they did not doubt that their families and betrotheds still hunted for them. Even Blaise. They would all be searching.

So the girls lived as muggles, engrossing themselves within the rich and vibrant cultures of communities from all around the globe. Each time they visited a new place, they found themselves even more impressed than in the last country they had visited. Constantly, their expectations were exceeded by the splendour of life and happiness surrounding them, and for two years, they were a part of it.

Pansy laughed as a muggle man, who was her lover, grabbed her around the waist and spun her in the air, Octavia running and attempting to avoid the same being done to her. The muggle that chased the wizard-born was not exactly her partner, but their relationship was hardly of the platonic variety. Let's just say that his skilled tongue performed wonders. Yet, she refused to take their relationship to the next level.

Octavia refused to enter into anything serious with the muggles they encountered on their travels, for she did not wish to suffer the heartache she had previously been victim to in her life. The two men she had ever allowed access to her vulnerable heart, had broken it beyond repair. She would never let that happen again.

* * *

The sun had set hours ago, but like most nights, sleep evaded Draco Malfoy. He performed his regular ritual on the sleepless nights he had suffered over the past two years, and stood on the balcony of his opulent bedroom. The glow of the moon above shone down on the lush Manor gardens before him, but his eyes were fixed on one particular feature of the gardens.

The Whomping Willow.

Draco had the old hostile tree removed from Hogwarts upon his graduation, and paid handsomely to have it relocated to Malfoy Manor. His absent little squib adored the brutal tree, for reasons unknown to Draco. Regardless, he acquired her favourite piece of the magical school and had it planted in the section of the gardens that the balcony paralleled.

He longed for the day that he would watch his filthy squib visit the Whomping Willow in the gardens, and he would watch the bedroom balcony. It would provide her with happiness, would it not? To have the tree in the grounds of her home? Well, the Malfoy Manor would be her home when he found her, at least.

In his mind, however, the Manor was already her home. She had just yet to return.

Each day he resided in the Manor without his squib, he felt his soul shatter and tear a little bit more. Perhaps it was beyond repair now? He didn't know. Nor did he care.

Draco cared about one thing, and one thing only: Finding his ungrateful bitch of a fiancé, and dragging her home to her rightful place.

Even after two excruciatingly long years, Draco continued in his hunt for the kitten that evaded him. But she would not evade him forever; of that, he was certain. He would find her. She would slip up, and he would be there waiting for her to do so.

It was only a matter of time.

The time was coming. Draco knew it, for he felt it. The bones within his muscular body vibrated and tingled with the nearing discovery of her whereabouts. His soul stirred deep within him, alerting him to the upcoming encounter with his beloved. He knew it. He felt it.

Octavia would be found.

The fingers of his left hand weaved and entwined with the purple silk ribbon in his grasp, his silver eyes focused on the tree ahead. The pad of his thumb brushed over the soft and expensive material of the ribbon as he imagined Octavia sitting at the base of the tree, gazing out onto the field of Saffron Crocus flowers. Her favourite flowers created a field of purple amongst the browns and greens of nature.

Draco slowly brought his hand up to face, inhaling the strawberry aroma of the ribbon as his heart yearned for her. The alluring scent of strawberries and Octavia filled his senses and soul, stirring a dangerous combination of emotions within the cold man.

His heart ached for her return; his soul yearned for hers; but his pride demanded retribution.

Draco was not concerned, however. For he knew that he would have all three.

* * *

Hermione Granger stifled a yawn as she secured her mass of wild curls at the top of her head with a stretched hair-tie, her flat and boring shoes connecting with the cheap tiles of the corridor. There were no windows lining the hallway she ventured down, but she did not require the sight of the night-sky to determine that it was late. Her aching bones told her as much, as well as her exhausted and over-exerted brain.

The third and final year of her studies showed on the weariness of her tired eyes and the tightness of her lips as she approached the door to her office. The internship she was undertaking required her to work constantly, throughout the days and nights. Hermione had almost forgotten the feeling of falling asleep in her own bed at her parent's house, as she tended to sleep under her desk or in her chair these days.

At times, Hermione felt the desire to quit her studies and enter into a more leisurely profession. Perhaps owning her own bookstore? That was a lovely thought. Alas, her interests and ambitions would not be dismissed, causing her to enter into the unappreciated sector of Creature Equality. Fortunately, however, she was four months into her final year, and would complete her post-graduate studies come December.

As Hermione was merely an intern at present, her voice went unheard at the frequent conferences. So she bit her tongue and bided her time, waiting patiently for her final year of studies to come to an end. For when it did, Hermione would take on the Wizarding World and present the prospect of House-elf rights to the world.

Hermione pushed through the heavy and creaky door to her small office – which she shared with three others, of course – and stopped dead in her tracks at what she saw.

Another blasted investigator rummaging through her desk.

"Hey!" Hermione shouted, the cloaked man spinning around to face the livid muggle-born at the doorway. "Get the hell out of my office!"

The cloaked figure grinned widely, the brightness of his toothy smile shining in the dim room as Hermione stormed toward him, wand raised.

"I will not repeat myself," Hermione seethed, her brown eyes ablaze with injustice. "If I ever see you or your associates here again, I'll blast you to smithereens."

"As you wish," the investigator laughed, pushing passed the bristled woman and disappearing through the ajar door.

The moment he departed, Hermione slammed the door shut and bolted over to the ransacked desk. Her panicked expression took hold of her weary face as she rummaged through her belongings, cursing under her breath repeatedly.

Hermione exhaled deeply in relief as she spotted the postcard in the drawer where she had left it, sinking into her chair as she ran her hands over her tired features. It was not a regular occurrence for Hermione to keep the postcards from Octavia in her office, but she had received that particular postcard that very morning in the muggle mail at her parents' home. Having been late for work, she had taken with her to her lengthy shift and read it over her three-minute lunch break.

It was how Octavia would communicate with her over the years; via rare postcards sent in the muggle mail, addressed to Hermione's parents, and signed under the alias of 'Annabelle Polly'.

The investigators were a frequent nuisance for Hermione, and had remained so over the past two years. They never stopped breaking into her office, nor did they cease ransacking her bedroom at her parents' home when vacant. Of course, she had reported it several times, claiming that the investigators were hired by the Malfoys and Zabinis. But nothing came of her allegations, for gold went farther than crimes.

Hermione had learned that over the years in her studies and internships. It was undeniable.

Status went beyond morality.

* * *

In nothing but black sweatpants, Draco stormed out of his bedroom and strode down the lengthy corridor. He had just been alerting, whilst thinking of his squib on the balcony, of his investigator arriving at the Manor. Draco knew that it would be favourable news that the hired swine had brought him, due to the late hour of the visit.

His bare feet connected with the runner rug on the ground of the corridor, the portraits on the walls stirring in their slumbers as he stormed passed them in the dead of night. The fires of the torches on the wall gave an orange glow to his marble-like chest, the muscle definition emphasised in the flattering light.

It took Draco little more than ten minutes to reach the west wing of the Manor, barging into his study, his silver eyes alight with desperation as he swiftly approached his desk. Draco didn't bother seating himself like the investigator had already done so, and instead slammed his hands down on the mahogany wood of the desk and glowered expectantly at the cloaked figure.

The feral toothy grin of the man shone beneath the shadows of his cloak, the investigator removing a thick paper-like material from his robe. The man placed it on the desk, Draco snatching it immediately as he eyed the strange paper.

"A postcard," the man explained, his amber eyes glowing brightly as he removed his hood and revealed his identity. "I can smell her on it. Such a delectable scent."

"Where did you acquire this?" Draco demanded harshly, staring Fenrir Greyback dead in the eye.

"In the mudbloods office," Fenrir answered, inhaling deeply as he drew on the strawberry aroma that coated the postcard. "I duplicated it, so she could not suspect my discovery. It should prevent a warning reaching your precious squib before you can reach her yourself."

Draco tossed the postcard onto the desk, grabbing a quill from the inkpot and swiftly scribbling three words onto the parchment scroll. The words that he had longed to say for two years.

Three words that pieced all the broken shards of his being back together, reigniting his fury and thirst for vengeance. Causing his heart to swell within him and stomach to flutter incessantly.

 _I found her._

* * *

Octavia handed the vendor money in exchange for the coconut, taking the course drupe from the callused hands of the Thai man. Inclining her head at the smiling man, Octavia thanked him with the polite gesture before running over to Pansy by the other fruit stand. She waited patiently as Pansy purchased half of a watermelon, the pink insides already carved into cubes, and the green shell serving as a bowl.

"Gosh, O." Pansy shivered as she watched her friend suck the juices out of the coconut by use of a long straw. "That's disgusting."

"What is?" Octavia frowned before sipping more of the murky coconut juice.

"Coconut water is simply revolting," Pansy drawled, taking her watermelon from the vendor. "I don't know how you drink it."

"It's pretty gross," Octavia laughed. "But it's cool to drink coconut water."

"You drink it to be cool?" Pansy grinned, her brow arching. "That's the opposite of cool, Octavia."

"Don't be a hater," Octavia winked, trying out a newly learned word as Pansy laughed.

They two girls made their way down the street lines with trash bags, the familiar scent of garbage and pollution invaded their senses. But Pansy and Octavia had grown accustomed to the putrid aroma over their time in Phuket, and therefore barely noticed it anymore.

At first, the ghastly smell was unbearable for the girls. They had sworn to only remain in Patong, Phuket for a few weeks before moving on to another part of the world. But as the days had gone by, Pansy and Octavia found themselves to have grown rather fond of the lively tourist spot and had come to forget the horrid scent surrounding them. Now, they only smelled the sizzling meats on the kiosks on the streets of Phuket, laced with the saltiness of the ocean and the alluring aroma of freedom.

Octavia's white canvas shoes connected with the filthy cracked pavement as they journeyed through the streets, making their way to Bangla Road to meet up with their muggle friends. The humidity in the air caused O's curls to frizz and grow wild, Octavia being left with no choice but to fasten her hair atop her head, only a few loose tendrils framing her pretty and sun-kissed face. Her shoulders were protected from the strong sunrays by use of a thin flannelette shirt, unbuttoned to reveal her grey crop top. Light blue denim shorts adorned the wizard-born muggle, hardly shielding the bottom of her perky bum from those who looked.

The attire would never be sanctioned by her family back home, but it felt like a second-skin to Octavia now. She couldn't imagine tottering around the uneven pavements of Patong in heels, the heaviness of formal robes causing her to perspire. Even in her light and revealing outfit, her brow grew damp from the intensity of the heat, the gorgeous girl wiping away the sweat repeatedly.

They turned onto Bangla road, the vibrant atmosphere washing over them instantly. It was the street of Patong designed to accommodate those who wished to party 24/7, lined with clubs, bars and 'gentlemen' establishments. Stunning Thai girls stood at the front of their workplaces, luring in the men who were undoubtedly tourists, lady-boys scattering the lively street. You could never tell a lady-boy was just that by looking. They were equally as gorgeous as the women, if not more. Their make-up was 'on fleek', as the muggles would say, and their outfits were flattering to say the least.

Octavia and Pansy had been rather shocked to discover the existence of lady-boys, but had quickly come to realise that it was not a strange occurrence in Thailand. Furthermore, the lady-boys they had encountered and spoken with over the three months they had spent in Patong, were perhaps the nicest people they had met during their travels.

As they approached their intended establishment of choice, Octavia slurped the last of the coconut water through the straw before tossing the coconut remains onto the pile of trash on the road. A burp escaped her lips as Pansy threw the remainder of her watermelon onto the same garbage pile, a few stray dogs digging into the fruits immediately.

"Anna!" A handsome muggle shouted, spotting the two approaching girls coming toward the bar.

The muggle man, named Luke, jumped over the fence of the outside area of the bar, jogging over to Octavia with a wide grin on his exceptionally attractive face. Pansy had once said that Luke resembled Draco to a degree, but Octavia denied the resemblance. Yes, he was considerably pale given the strength of the sun above, and his light blonde fair fell over his forehead much like Draco's had. But the warmth of his blue eyes was nothing like Draco's icy silver orbs. Although their muscular builds were quite similar, as well the masculine definition of their jawlines.

"Hey," Octavia giggled as he swept her up in his arms and hauled her over his muscular shoulder.

Pansy laughed, following Luke back over to the group of muggles in the outdoor bar area, kissing her own muggle man on the lips to greet him. Despite the physically intimate nature of Pansy and Octavia's relationship with Luke and Brad, neither girl harboured romantic feelings for them. It was all just fun, and the two girls were not in any way prepared to relinquish a fraction of their freedom any time soon. So it was all fun and games, and nothing more.

Luke plopped Octavia down on a bar stool at the high table, the wizard-born laughing and brushing loose curls from her pretty face.

"Took your bloody time, didn't ya?" Brad laughed, his Australian accent thicker from the liquor he had consumed.

"Anna decided to become distracted by a pack of stray dogs," Pansy explained as Luke ordered a round of drinks from the waitress.

"They were hungry," Octavia shrugged. "I bought them meat from a vendor."

"And fussed over them for the better part of an hour," Pansy laughed, a tray of shots and buckets of booze placed on the table by the waitresses.

"Yeah, ok." Octavia rolled her eyes. "You're totally not exaggerating at all."

Luke handed the waitresses several notes of Baht, the waitresses evidently excited at the generous tip he had given them. The Australians were hardly known for their tips in Thailand. It was the Americans who tipped generously on most occasions.

"Well you missed the best part of my holiday," Brad grinned, draping his arm over Pansy's bare shoulders.

"Oh yeah?" Pansy prompted before picking up a shot glass, Octavia mimicking her actions.

The two girls toasted one another before tossing back the putrid liquid, a combination of various types of liquor trickling down their throats and surely burning holes in their livers. Octavia shuddered before pulling a bucket of booze toward her, Pansy doing the same, neither caring that it was ten in the morning.

It was 12 o'clock somewhere, right?

"Get this!" Brad entered into an exciting reiteration of prior events. "So some chick came up to Josh-" Octavia noticed that Josh, who sat on the edge of the bar table instantly burned crimson with mortification. "-He goes up to this hooker, right? All good, until he gets into the alleyway and, listen to this; it turns out-"

"She was a _he_?" Pansy interrupted, smirking at the tomato-faced Aussie at the end of the table.

"How'd you know?" Brad frowned, staring at Pansy in awe.

"Call it a lucky guess," Pansy laughed, impressed by the level of Brad's stupidity.

Let's just say that she wasn't dating him for his intellectual stimulation.

Pansy – who the muggles knew as Victoria – smiled as Octavia – A.K.A. 'Anna' – snickered discreetly at Brad's expense. It was rather refreshing to not be the dumbest person in the group, Octavia realised.

"You guys coming to Tiger later?" Luke asked, pulling O's chair a little closer to his.

Octavia nodded as she slurped at her bucket of booze through a straw, excited at the prospect of her favourite club in Phuket. The double-story club offered a variety of music, her favourite being what the muggles called 'Hip-Hop'. Octavia was not ashamed to admit that she had become quite skilled at the dancing fad 'twerking', and wasn't afraid to show off when they hit the dancefloor. Pansy, however, was more a 'slut-dropper' herself.

It was at times like these when the girls did not miss their homes or families. It was in moments like these that they lived for the now, and didn't look back. Octavia didn't feel the gaping hole in her heart in these fun and joyous moments. She didn't feel the yearning inside of her to see her family again, or her forgotten friends; Luna and Hermione.

For in times like these, she was not Octavia, and Pansy was not Pansy. They were sisters; Victoria and Annabelle Polly, two travelling rich kids from Oxford, England, spending their parent's money as they travelled wherever the wind took them.

Nothing compared to the freedom they possessed. Not money, status or family. They had each other, and that's all the family they needed.

If that was true, however, then why did O's heart still ache? Always, it ached. Even when she ignored and dismissed it, the hollow pain remained.

Always, it was there. Mocking her; taunting her; punishing her.

Octavia wished for the dull pain to disperse, but it had yet to do so over the years. If anything, it increased; thriving on her dismissals and attempts to ignore it.

She didn't know that it wouldn't go away. She didn't know that by continuing to run, she was only worsening the heartache. And it would not go away until she realised the source of the pain.

Alas, Octavia would not realise the cause on her own. But she would realise the cause very soon. Much sooner than expected.

* * *

The fire in the parlour room emitted a strong orange glow as the flames danced and licked together dangerously, the occasional crack and pop sounding out from the engraved fireplace on the wall. All seats were occupied by a mixture of Zabinis, Malfoys and Parkinsons as the postcard was passed around, each person handling it delicately as though it would crumble to ash if they were too rough.

Mediana, Narcissa and Ethel Parkinson all sat on the leather sofa, their anxious gazes fixed on the odd paper postcard that was currently being inspected by Leonardo. The Zabini patriarch flicked his hand, causing the postcard to levitate in the air right before his narrowed eyes as he inspected it closely.

Blaise sat by his father's side, his grip on the tumbler of fire-whiskey perhaps a little too tight. Draco noticed, his silverly eyes narrowing in on the firm grip before moving up to assess the tightness of his comrade's lips. From Draco's visual inspection of Blaise, he suspected that the Italian was less than pleased at their latest discovery, which Blaise attempted to conceal with a stoic expression. How peculiar.

Draco's peaked suspicions went dismissed as Leonardo addressed him.

"How can we be sure that is Octavia?" Leonardo asked, the postcard spinning slowly in the air as his dark eyes assessed it carefully. "The charms are showing no solid results. No fingerprints, or evidence of DNA."

"I doubt she touched the peculiar item with her hands," Lucius countered, sitting on the armchair to the side of Leonardo.

"It is possible that she wore gloves as a precaution," Alexander added, pouring himself another generous helping of fire-whiskey despite the early hour. "They have been very careful apparently, for this is the first lead we have had since their disappearance."

Draco had no doubt in his mind that it was due to Pansy that the two had gone undiscovered for so long. Had Octavia fled on her own, Draco would have found his fiancé within a matter of days. Alas, Pansy had gone with her, therefore the squib had her friend's logical input on their cautionary behaviour. Fortunately, a breadcrumb had been revealed. Hopefully, a breadcrumb which would lead him right to his elusive kitten.

"It has her scent," Draco drawled, fingering his tumbler absentmindedly as he reclined in the armchair. "Greyback confirmed it."

Leonardo nodded slowly, his pensive gave on the atrocious scribbles on the postcard.

"Additionally, I would recognise Octavia's dismal handwriting anywhere." Draco added coolly.

Mediana stifled a whimper of joy at the strengthening of the clue, the prospect of her favoured child returning home elating her heart. The heart that had been broken and heavy for the past two years.

Ethel Parkinson gracefully wiped a stray tear from her cheek with her index finger, her hopeful gaze fixed on the clue that rotated in the air.

"Phuket," Leonardo said as he read the location on the motionless photograph on the postcard. "An odd place to travel."

"A place we would not have searched," Alexander countered. "Limited magical communities that hold no connections to our own society; pureblood or not. They would go unrecognised in Thailand, no matter which city they journeyed to."

"If this is our daughters," Leonardo spoke firmly, "we must reach them before they leave Phuket. I do not doubt that they move regularly to prevent capture."

"What of the engagements?" Mediana asked, speaking for the first time since entering the room.

"Pardon?" Leonardo quirked his brow at his watery-eyed wife.

"When the girls are brought home, they will learn that their engagements are still in position." Mediana said, her voice thick with the tears she shed. "They may flee again."

Leonardo nodded before meeting Draco's icy eyes, the latter inclining his head and removing a small black box from the inner pocket of his robes. Draco flipped open the box, revealing a massive pink diamond ring to the other occupants, the spectacularly expensive engagement ring twinkling in the dim lights of the parlour.

"That is very pretty," Ethel drawled, eyeing the costly ring approvingly. "However, I am at a loss as to how that ring answers Mediana's query."

"Draco will send the ring away to be examined and modified by the curse-breakers at the Ministry," Lucius explained. "Once it is returned and placed on Octavia's finger, she will be unable to remove it."

"The ring will be spelled to connect with Draco's wand, alerting him of her whereabouts at all times, should he desire to check." Leonardo added.

"Why have you not had the ring charmed already?" Mediana asked, a crease at her brow.

"It requires Octavia's essence," Draco answered coolly. "Whether it be a fresh drop of her blood, or a recently taken strand of hair."

"The 'Semper Iuncti' charm," Blaise drawled, his brow quirking and eyes darkening at the realisation.

Draco inclined his head, noticing the fleeting concern that flickered in Blaise's dark eyes. Very peculiar. The handsome blonde pureblood snapped the box shut before placing it into the pocket of his robes. He cared naught about employing the eternal charm – or 'curse', depending on your views – as he would never allow his kitten to escape him again. She was his. Now and forever.

Always.

"It would take a curse-breaker of the highest calibre to break the enchantments on the ring," Lucius drawled, swirling his tumbler leisurely, the ice clanging together from the movement. "In saying that, might I suggest Octavia's restriction to the Manor? If she were to escape, even though Draco would find her in a matter of minutes, we cannot risk another scandal."

Leonardo nodded in agreement, finding that the scandal that had already arisen from his daughter's escape had yet to dim in the two years that followed. Publications and articles were still printed frequently in the _Daily Prophet_ , accompanied by the expected whispers throughout the magical community.

Of course, the father's and fiancé's of the two escapees had assured that the girls were enjoying an approved trip around the world to educate themselves in a variety of cultures. A lie that they maintained despite the constant pestering of the media and journalists. Parasites.

A deafening crack ripped through the parlour room, Tatty, the house-elf, appearing directly before his Master, Leonardo Zabini.

"My Lord," the house-elf greeted with a low bow. "The portkey is heres, My Lord."

"When does it activate?" Leonardo asked sharply as Draco rose from the armchair, followed by Blaise.

"The portkey is to go in eight minutes," Tatty answered, still bowing deeply.

"Where exactly are you portkeying to?" Mediana asked, rising from the sofa.

"Phuket, dear." Leonardo answered as though it were obvious.

"I understand that," Mediana responded coolly, her husband arching his brows at her tone. "Phuket is a very large city, to my knowledge. The girls could be anywhere in the metropolitan area, or in the suburban outskirts."

"Do not concern yourself, dear." Leonardo smiled, approaching his anxious wife. "When I return, Octavia will be with me."

Mediana nodded, seeking reassurance and comfort in his words as Leonardo kissed her lips softly. Even after all these years, her heart still fluttered at his touch. If Octavia allowed herself to, Mediana was certain that her daughter would be just as happy as she. For there was nothing grander than being loved dearly by the man that held your heart. And Mediana did not doubt that Draco held Octavia's, no matter how oblivious her daughter was to that fact.

Draco unfastened his robes and removed them from his body, now standing in black slacks and shirt of matching colour. The striking paleness of his complexion was emphasised by the dark shade of his attire, the silver glow of his eyes even more fierce if possible. The others followed suit, removing their Wizarding robes in preparation of their arrival to a muggle city, where they would locate the wayward pureblood girls.

Running his long fingers through his blonde hair, Draco inhaled deeply as he attempted to soothe the peculiar feeling in his stomach. The fluttering sensation that only increased as their departure neared. It was a ghastly feeling, he decided. It was as though his entire body - veins, organs and all - were alight with horrid nerves that ate away at his composure.

A horrid feeling. But one that would not relent.


	2. Chapter 2

The Wizard-Born Muggle Chapter 2

* * *

Octavia threw her head back, whined and stomped her foot childishly, Pansy raising her brows at the immature display. No matter how many times Pansy remained strong against the tantrums of Octavia, the wizard-born still performed them whenever things did not go her way. Honestly, how Draco and Blaise dealt with her strops was simply beyond Pansy's comprehension. They were quite bothersome.

"I don't wanna," Octavia whined, her lips pursed into a pout and brows furrowed in annoyance.

"Yet, it makes no difference." Pansy drawled indifferently.

"Can't we just stay?" Octavia pleaded.

Like she did every single time. So predictable.

"No," Pansy arched her brow sternly.

Octavia narrowed her eyes at her friend as they stood by the bar, Octavia slowly pushing Pansy's fake Prada sunglasses off the bar top, staring Pansy dead in the eyes as she did so. The sunglasses fell onto the grimy sticky floor, neither girl breaking eye contact with one another.

Despite her strop, Pansy did not relent to her friend's complaints, and turned to face the approaching bartender instead. The sunglasses were left on the floor, the lenses broken from Octavia's attack.

"You're replacing them, O." Pansy drawled, after ordering two mojitos.

"Nope," Octavia crossed her arms over her chest huffily.

Pansy turned to face her childish friend, giving her a stern look which had Octavia avert her eyes to the floor.

"You're replacing my sunglasses," Pansy stated firmly, her friend requiring an authoritative tone. "And we're leaving tomorrow morning. It's final."

"Ugh," Octavia huffed. "You're so annoying."

"And you aren't?" Pansy laughed, taking the two drinks from the barmaid.

Octavia snatched her mojito from Pansy and sipped at it through the straw, her narrowed eyes fixed on her indifferent friend.

"We have to leave, O." Pansy sighed, stirring her own drink with the straw. "We've been here for three months. We agreed on the rules."

Octavia shrugged lamely, pretending that she wasn't really listening to her friend.

"What are the rules, O?" Pansy asked sternly.

"I dunno," Octavia mumbled, her narrowed eyes boring into Pansy's brown orbs.

"Repeat them. Rule number one is …"

"Fine," Octavia groaned, fiddling with the little umbrella in her drink. "Rule number one; don't tell anybody our real names."

"Rule number two?"

"Never write to anyone back home." Octavia mumbled, knowing that she had broken that rule a few times with Ninny.

But she had used her alias, so it hardly mattered.

Right?

"Rule number three?"

"Don't stay in one country for more than three months." Octavia imitated Pansy's bossy tone.

"How long have we been here?" Pansy asked, her brow quirked expectantly.

Octavia released a heavy sigh, her cheeks puffing out slightly. "Three months and two days."

"Three months and two _weeks_." Pansy corrected. "We have to leave."

"Where do you wanna go?" Octavia asked, sipping at her sour and sugary drink.

"We have to go somewhere cheap," Pansy sighed. "We've gone through too much money already."

"How much do we have left?"

"Enough Baht to get us through the night and on a flight out of here," Pansy shrugged. "And then we have £500,000 left, give or take. I think that works out to be around 160,000 galleons."

"Is that all?" Octavia raised her brows in surprise.

"It's enough." Pansy nodded. "We have to be careful from now on, but it we can make it work. We have to budget and go only to cheap countries."

"Shit." Octavia breathed. "I can sell my ring? Mother gave it to me, but it's worth a lot more than what we have."

"Keep it for now." Pansy said, shaking her head. "We might need it later, but hopefully not."

"Well where can we go that's as cheap as here?" O asked with a frown.

"Honduras in South America," Pansy suggested. "Or Cambodia again. I'd rather not go back to Cambodia, though. We were there a year ago, so it's too risky to return just yet."

"I've never even heard of Honunus." Octavia tilted her head curiously.

"Honduras," Pansy corrected with a grin.

"Hundooroo," Octavia frowned.

"Google it." Pansy laughed.

Octavia hummed as she slipped out her iPhone from the back pocket of her denim shorts. She pressed her thumb against the centre button, the machinery recognising her thumbprint and unlocking to provide her access. Pansy glanced around the relatively quiet outdoor bar in the street as Octavia looked up the city Pansy suggested.

"Thank God for autocorrect," Octavia murmured, having evidently spelled the country wrong. "Ok, got it."

Pansy returned her gaze to her friend as her thumb flicked against the glowing screen of the phone, O's hazel eyes darting around the information on the Wikipedia page. That website was a godsend, they had realised a few months into their travels. After they had worked out what a phone was, of course.

"Oh hey," Octavia sang. "They speak Spanish. You can speak it, yeah?"

"Fluently," Pansy nodded. "That's promising."

"Ok, that's a no." Octavia scowled, locking her phone and stuffing it back into her pocket. "They have the highest kidnapping rate in South America."

"Oh," Pansy deflated visibly. "Well … What about Indonesia?"

Octavia shrugged dismissively before her attention was caught by a group of approaching muggles.

"We'll talk about it later," Octavia hushed, Pansy following her gaze.

Great.

Luke, Brad and the rest of the crew were headed right their way. Pansy fleetingly wondered if she would say goodbye to Brad before their swift departure. But she hardly had to wonder. It would be the same as it was in every country they travelled to. They met wonderful people, developed bonds and friendships, only to leave without so much as a goodbye, and never to be heard from again.

It was at times like these when Pansy missed her home.

It was at times like these when Pansy missed her identity.

But it was at _all_ times that Pansy missed her magic.

* * *

Despite his attire being that of a thin, expensive black shirt and black slacks, Draco struggled to focus on his pursuit and ignore the suffocating heat surrounding him. The humidity of this filthy place was almost unbearable, causing Draco to harbour a flame of uncertainty that Octavia could be there, in the city. He highly doubted that the precious little squib could cope in the sheer horridness of the hot and thick smoggy air constricting him.

From the evident weariness of his companions, Draco assumed that the heat affected them as well. Although, it hardly helped their tiring bodies that they had been walking around the road outside of the blasted building for close to nine hours. Every single one of them carried photographs of the girls they hunted, charmed to remain motionless so as not to confuse and upset the filthy muggles around them.

Leonardo, Blaise, Alexander and Draco all walked up and down the road outside of the 'airport', showing the pictures to passing muggles and asking if they recognised the girls. Of course, they did not ask the tourists or travelling muggles, for that would prove to be futile. They asked the employees at the airport, and countless servicemen, varying from bus-drivers, pamphlet-givers, taxi-drivers, to the policemen that patrolled the area.

The sun was setting in the distance, the darkness of the night soon to be upon them. But not one of the pureblood men would relent until they had a scrap of information on the girls they had tracked to Phuket. They would continue in their relentless hunt, Draco's determination only strengthening through the foggy haze of tiredness within him.

Sleep later. Find her now.

His priorities were in check, and he would allow nothing and no one to come in between himself and the kitten who belonged to him.

Draco watched coolly as the stumpy muggle man marked the photograph with his grubby hands, his chubby face scrunching up as his brown eyes flickered between the two girls in the picture. Draco noticed the glimmer of recognition in the man's eyes, clearing his throat to cause the man to meet his icy stare.

The moment their eyes connected, Draco delved into his mind, ransacking every memory the man had stored in his brain. Draco searched ferociously for any signs of his fiancé. He heard her before he saw her, in the man's mind. A brilliant and spectacular laugh sang in his brain, not his ears. Draco snatched the memory in the man's mind and forced it to come forward, his icy silver eyes penetrating the wide eyes of the muggle man.

The taxi driver stood, mouth agape, reliving a constant stream of flashing memories that had spanned over his entire forty-seven years of life. He knew that the intimidating blonde man was doing something to his mind, but found that his bones were rigid, and he was glued to the spot. Sorcery. He knew it.

Confusion crept up in the man as the faint memory focused in his mind, two girls in the back of his cab as he drove them from the airport to a hotel resort in Patong. The memory played in his mind, over and over again, certain parts slowed down and others sped up. It was the strangest sensation. It was as though his brain was merely a DVD player, and this man had the remote control.

There was no other way to describe it. But the muggle man knew; he had never felt more violated in his life.

Suddenly, the muggle man blinked and found that he was alone. The blonde man was no longer there, nor were his companions. They had gone.

Who had gone?

The muggle man did not know. How strange.

All memory of the strange encounter had evaporated from his mind like an elusive vapour caught in a fist. Seeping out of the cracks and gaps. Never to return again.

* * *

Feeling a little buzzed, Octavia giggled and laughed as she and Pansy stumbled out of the Tuk Tuk. O's flannelette shirt got caught in the door, causing her to tumble and land on her bottom with a grunt. Pansy blinked as she looked down at her sprawled out friend before erupting into a fit of giggles at O's expense.

"Shut up!" Octavia whined, remaining on her bum as she yanked her red flannel out of the door.

Once successful, she ungracefully climbed to her feet and burped indelicately. The moment that she was freed from the Tuk Tuk, it raced off at a dangerous speed, eager to get back into the heart of Patong to pick up other customers.

Pansy snickered, still thoroughly enjoying Octavia's fall, as they walked through the gated security entrance to the lush resort.

"Ugh, my tummy hurts," Octavia complained, rubbing at her flat belly through the denim material of her short shorts.

"You have to stop eating meat off the vendor stalls," Pansy rolled her eyes. "You always get sick after."

"It hurts," Octavia frowned, the two girls veering off onto the more expensive part of the resort. "I need to poop."

"Jesus, O." Pansy sighed in exasperation. "If I have to listen to you complain about your bowel movements for the entire plane ride tomorrow, I'm going to lose my mind."

"I think I have IBS," Octavia complained, rubbing her tummy.

"What's that?"

"I dunno," Octavia shrugged. "But I think I have it."

Pansy smirked, glancing at her crude friend as they walked through the resort.

"You are simply revolting," Pansy smirked before hiccupping.

Octavia humphed, dropping her hands to her sides as she shot a side-glower at her friend. It was hardly O's fault that she had a sensitive tummy, but no self-control.

The two girls stepped onto the wooden boardwalk atop the clear blue water of the sea, headed toward the larger floating huts at the end. The overwater villas were relatively modest in size, but Octavia suspected that the reason was to prevent them from sinking into the ocean beneath the wooden bungalows. Regardless, Pansy and Octavia had booked adjacent rooms at the end of the boardwalk, each of their rooms featuring a glass floor that allowed a view of the water beneath. It was also rather splendid that their little patios featured built in hot-tubs.

Muggles sure knew how to vacation, that was for sure.

As they reached the end of the long boardwalk, surrounded by the tranquil sea water that glistened brilliantly beneath the moonlight and stars, Pansy stopped and turned to Octavia.

"You better be awake and ready on time," Pansy said, her words slurring somewhat. "I'm not dealing with your crap in the morning."

Octavia grinned and winked at the girl, challenging her with the gleam in her hazel eyes. Pansy sighed before hiccupping, Octavia snorting in response.

"See ya later, _Victoria_ ," Octavia sang as she turned and made her way toward the wooden door to her bungalow.

Before her fingers could even clasp around the doorknob, a hand came out of nowhere and pressed against her lips. Octavia froze instantly, her gasp of fright muffled by the palm against her mouth as a quiet shushing sound whispered in her ear.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest, the hand still pressed firmly against her lips as her eyes widened in shock.

Oh. Fuck.

* * *

Octavia's chest heaved as her breathing picked up in pace, panic swarming in her wide hazel eyes and heart pounding violently. The hand on her agape mouth remained firmly pressed against her lips as the hushing noise sounded out again, so very quietly, she almost didn't hear it.

But she did hear it, and her panic soon found itself battling confusion.

"Don't make a sound," the voice whispered, Octavia frowning as she recognised Pansy's voice.

Slowly, the hand left her mouth and Octavia whipped around to stare at Pansy with a mixture of indignation and confusion. What the hell was her friend playing at? She scared her half to death!

Pansy pressed her index finger against her own lips, gesturing for Octavia to remain quiet. Octavia frowned further, watching Pansy glance around, panic etched onto her stunning features as she beckoned for O to follow her to the edge of the boardwalk. Without hesitation, Octavia tip-toed behind Pansy and tilted her head as the girl sat on the edge of the boardwalk and gently lowered herself into the shallow waters. Octavia blinked at the odd conduct of her friend, but sensed that there was justifiable cause for Pansy's behaviour, so she followed suit.

Once Octavia slipped into the water without a sound, Pansy grabbed her wrist and guided her underneath the wooden slabs of the boardwalk, shielding them from whatever they were hiding from. The water that came up to their chins was surprisingly cold, given the warm climate of Patong and the humid heat that thickened the air around them. The two girls remained utterly silent as they gazed up at the boardwalk above them, only just able to see through the gaps between the planks of wood.

Suddenly, all of Octavia's internal confusion and questions gave way to shock and horror as the door to her own bungalow opened slowly, a muscular figure exiting the hut. Wide hazel eyes, filled with alarm, attempted to focus on the partly illuminated face of the man who now stood on the boardwalk above them, the glow of the moon dancing across his features spectacularly.

Draco Malfoy stood above her, his hands in his trouser pockets as he glanced around his surroundings, his brow furrowed slightly. He remained perfectly still and silent, as did the two girls beneath him that he went entirely unaware of, the pureblood demon scanning the resort with icy grey eyes.

His eyes.

Fuck. His eyes.

Octavia had almost forgotten just how intense his silvery eyes were. She had almost forgotten the sheer fear that his eyes struck into her soul. He wasn't even looking at her – hell, he didn't even know she was beneath the very boardwalk he stood on – and she felt the punishment of his glowing sinister eyes.

It had been over two years since she had last seen Draco. Her fiancé. Her once-upon-a-time love. Her constant torturer.

He had changed, she noticed. Physically, at least. The shoulders of his body were defined, she realised, the definition of his muscles pressing against his black shirt. It was only due to the white glow of the moonlight that she could see his masculine form, and notice the changes of his body. He had always been tall, but it seemed as though he had grown. Had he? Maybe he hadn't, and Octavia's mind was merely tricking her due to the fear and alarm coursing through her veins.

His eyes appeared more ominous than ever, emitting a constant deadly glow that pierced through the darkness of the night. His jawline was distinguished, and she had honestly never found him so attractive in her life. But, then again, she had never found him so intimidating either. And he wasn't even looking at her! She dreaded to think of the fear he would strike into her if he looked into her eyes just once.

Slowly, Octavia removed her horrified gaze from the man above, meeting Pansy's panicked eyes. They communicated through their stare alone, silently agreeing to remain perfectly still until the 'coast was clear', as the muggles would say.

Their gazes turned back to the hunter above, watching silently as he frowned again before shaking his head marginally. The movement was so slight, that she wasn't even certain he had performed it. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose as he released a heavy breath, the girls beneath the boardwalk beginning to shiver in the cold water that embraced them.

Octavia resisted the urge to sigh in relief as she watched Draco turn and re-enter her bungalow, evidently resuming his waiting of her return. But he would wait for nothing; for she would not be returning to her hut.

Pansy and Octavia waited moments after the door clicked shut before releasing the breaths they did not know they were holding. They shared a panicked and relieved look before they turned slowly and carefully trudged through the water to the shore. They had to be cautious and gentle in their movements, lest they cause any ripples. If Draco or whoever else was waiting for them decided to come outside again, they couldn't chance the clues in the water. So they plodded through the cold and calm waters carefully, their bodies drenched as they reached the beachy shore and climbed out.

Sparing one glance back at the over-water bungalows, Octavia and Pansy sighed in defeat, realising what they were leaving behind.

Not their fiancés, nor their families, who neither girl doubted were all waiting for their return. They were leaving behind everything they owned; passports, money; clothes. Everything.

Everything they needed to remain on the run from their lives.

* * *

Leonardo Zabini sat on the bed behind him, Draco with his back to the Zabini patriarch as they both stared out of the glass doors to the patio. The bungalow was far too small for Draco's liking, and found himself to be a little displeased at the accommodations of his squib. She deserved to have much grander accommodations than this.

His pale hand rested against the window as he gazed out onto the sparkling blue waters outside, waiting rather impatiently for his treacherous fiancé to return to her small living space. But he had waited for hours upon hours, the sun now rising in the blue skies above as morning arrived.

Leonardo and Draco had occupied the charming bungalow for close to twelve hours now, and there was still no sign of the evasive squib they hunted. They would continue to wait. Hopefully, not for much longer. For Draco's patience was wearing thin.

Four hours ago, Draco could have sworn that he had heard the angelic snooty voice of his beloved whore, and the harmonious jingle of her indelicate snorts and scoffs. He had positioned himself to sit stoically in the armchair of the bedroom, but his fiancé did not step into his trap. After a few moments of waiting, and no further sounds of his prey, Draco had gone out onto the boardwalk. He had hoped to find her there. Within his vision. Somewhere near. Somewhere close.

Within reach.

Alas, he did not see the object of his affections. He did not see his most prized possession as he stood on the boardwalk and searched for her with mercurial eyes. There had not been a single soul in sight. Well, except for the insignificant guards at the entrance of the tropical resort.

It was strange, was it not? He could have sworn that he had heard her. Her sweet and alluring voice still echoed in his ears, the captivating sound of her snorts and scoffs still taunted him. He concluded that his mind had played a trick on him, for his squib was nowhere in sight when he checked.

There was no other explanation. He was losing his fucking mind. He had imagined the sweet songs of her voice and happiness, for his desire to capture the elusive squib was consuming him entirely.

So he continued to wait, praying to Merlin that his pursuit would come to fruition. That his darling mudblood would walk through the door to the bungalow at any given moment.

Yes. Of course she would.

And when she did, he would capture her and take her home with him.

And he would never let her escape again.

* * *

The silence was filled with the unspoken miseries of both girls. Pansy and Octavia remained quiet, their thoughts swarming their weary minds, and fingers entwined in a comforting gesture. They sat in the back of the taxi, the lights and streets of Patong whirling by them as they fled.

With only cash on them, enough to pay for the cab with scraps left over for breakfast, Pansy and Octavia were plagued by concerns.

What would they do now? Where would they go? With what money?

Everything they owned was back at the resort, guarded by the aristocratic wolves that awaited them. Their passports and money were left behind, and both girls were nearly crippled with the dejection that assaulted them. They needed the passports to leave the country; they needed the money to purchase tickets out of there; and they needed their funds to _feed_ themselves. To sustain their lives.

They were royally fucked.

Hands held tightly together, Pansy and Octavia grunted as the insane taxi driver raced over a speedbump and turned quickly onto the highway. Octavia groaned as Pansy slammed into her, due to the incredibly fast and dangerous turn of the taxi, both girls righting themselves as the car continued to speed down the highway. In perfect unison, the girls glowered at the cabdriver in the front seat.

But the fleeting annoyance with the cabdriver left quickly, and Octavia found her thought returning to their near-capture.

"How did you know?" Octavia whispered, speaking for the first time since they entered the car two hours ago.

Pansy turned to stare out of the window, watching the racing vehicles soar up and down the road, the sun shining brightly outside.

"I saw father," Pansy answered, her voice cracking as the tears came.

The tears that both girls had resisted and fought off for hours.

"I saw him packing my things through the window on the door," Pansy continued. "I saw his back, at least."

"We're so fucked," Octavia breathed, slumping in the backseat of the cab. "We have nothing, Pansy. Nothing."

"We have your ring," Pansy countered, turning her face to meet Octavia's gaze. "We'll have to sell it."

Octavia pursed her lips together as she raised her hand and observed the sparkling diamond ring that shone on her finger. It was once her mother's ring, given to Octavia on her eleventh birthday. It had been charmed to adjust to her growing finger-size over the years, and glistened more than the stars in a clear night sky. The ring was spectacular and very expensive. So much so, that Octavia didn't doubt that they could live off the funds from pawning the ring for the rest of their lives. But could the ring purchase them passports? Travelling documents?

She hoped so. For without those things, Octavia and Pansy could not flee. They would be trapped in a foreign country, their fiancés and fathers drawing in on them. Coming closer with each passing day.

Until they were eventually found and captured.

Pansy seemed to either share the same thought process as Octavia, or sense her concerns through the thick silence. Either way, Pansy began to find a way.

A way for them to escape.

"Text Luke and get the number of his drug dealer," Pansy ordered in a hushed tone.

"Why?" Octavia frowned,

Neither girl had ever been partial to the recreational substances that their muggle men enjoyed occasionally.

"It's a start, that's why." Pansy answered before leaning forward and addressing the cabdriver. "Hey, excuse me. Do you know where we can get … um … travel documents? We've lost ours."

"Embassy," the Thai man answered as though it wasn't the first time he had been asked that question. "British, yeah? I take you to British Embassy, ok?"

"We need them a lot sooner than the Embassy can provide them," Pansy said rather shiftily. "And maybe … not so … official as that."

Octavia raised her brows at the boldness of her friend, watching the interaction as her skilled thumbs whacked against her iPhone, typing her text to Luke.

The Thai man nodded, turning up the radio to a high volume before beckoning Pansy a little closer to him. Octavia couldn't hear what was being said between the two over the loud traditional music, sung in a language she did not understand. Her curious hazel eyes remained on her friend as Pansy whispered into the man's ear before handing him her phone. The cabdriver multi-tasked, much like Octavia, as he drove and entered a phone number into Pansy's iPhone before handing it back to the girl.

"Thanks," Pansy breathed in complete relief as the volume was turned down again.

Octavia shared a look with Pansy as the latter plopped back into the seat, the glint in her brown eyes causing Octavia to harbour a flame of hope. Hope that could potentially evolve into something a little more satisfying; like success.

* * *

The sun shone brightly above in the clear blue skies, the humidity almost suffocating the smartly dressed men as they stood on the boardwalk, in front of the two bungalows. The suitcases of the absent Pansy and Octavia lay between the half-circle of purebloods, all of their belongings packed away neatly.

Leonardo stormed up the boardwalk toward Draco, Blaise and Alexander, his furious expression catching the attention of his companions immediately. The guard whom Leonardo had just interrogated by means of brutal legilimency, stood swaying on the spot by the entry gate to the resort, looking rather confused and vacant.

"They were here," Leonardo growled, approaching the three men by the suitcases. "They returned last night; it seems that you did, in fact, hear my daughter, Draco."

Instantly, Draco's jaw clenched tightly, the rare dimples appearing on his cheeks as his stormy eyes darkened impossibly.

"The guards allowed them passage whilst we were waiting," Leonardo explained. "Twenty minutes later, they departed the resort, drenched from head to toe, and fled."

"They knew we were here," Blaise drawled, inspecting his manicured nails casually. "They can't have gone very far without these." Blaise inclined his head to the suitcases, referring to the essential items within.

"We should split up," Alexander suggested. "We will search Patong-" he gestured to himself and Blaise, "-while you two return to Phuket."

Draco didn't speak to vocalise his agreement, and instead, nodded once. The movement was as sharp as his eyes, the fury evident in the silvery orbs of the tense man.

Draco wasn't sure who he was most angry with; himself, or the slippery squib. Had he not have been so entirely consumed with agony and fury, he might have found himself impressed by the skilled level of sneakiness. Alas, he was focused on his anger.

For she had been near. Within reach. And he, like a fool, had allowed her to escape him.

He had been right before; he had heard the whispering echoes of her musical voice. He had not imagined it. She had been close, and spoke outside of the bungalow he occupied.

His soul stirred deep within, aching tremendously at the thought of his squib being so close, yet so far away. It was torture.

But the torture would not last. For he would find her, and when he did, he would ensure that she could never flee him again.


	3. Chapter 3

The Wizard-Born Muggle Chapter 3

* * *

The city oozed the rancid stench of garbage and defeat. Chemicals invaded his senses as he stood on the balcony, bile threatening to creep up in his throat at the disgusting odour. Draco could not fathom how his precious little squib endured the rancid fragrance of Phuket. He could not comprehend how his disobedient fiancé could withstand the pungent scent that he unwillingly tasted on his tongue.

It had been weeks since they had last discovered a clue of the girls' whereabouts. Weeks of agony and despair, fury and desperation. Weeks of hell. The yearning for her had increased to impossible measures over the past three weeks. Perhaps it was due to being so close, but so far away? It was torture, all the same.

Their lack of success in finding the girls had caused them to call in reinforcements. Fenrir Greyback and Lucius Malfoy had joined them in Phuket, a mere three days ago. And for three days, Draco had yet to see either man.

The pureblood men occupied the upper level of a grand muggle hotel, each residing in their own expensive room. Well, hardly 'expensive' to them, of course.

Despite Lucius' hotel room paralleling Draco's, the latter had yet to encounter his father once since he had arrived in Phuket. But Draco did not allow that fact to concern him. if anything, it fed his desperate hope. For his father was a highly successful tracker, of sorts, learning and practicing his skills during the Wizarding War. His father was the reason that so many Order members had been found, and the culprit in their deaths.

Of course, Lucius Malfoy was cleared of all charges during the trials of the War, but his particular talents remained with him. Talents that Lucius had employed several times in the past two years, to no avail. Thankfully, they had closed in on the girls, increasing the likelihood of Lucius' success.

The lack of presence of Lucius Malfoy in the hotel, caused Draco to presume that his father was encountering success in his pursuit for Octavia and Pansy. Had he not been successful in attaining leads and clues, Draco was sure that he would have returned to the hotel to relay so.

Draco sat on the balcony of his hotel room, facing the lively city that surrounded him. His gaze was not on the city lights that gleamed and taunted him of the possibility that his mudblood was amongst the muggles there. His gaze was on the ring that he held in his long fingers, clasped firmly between his thumb and index finger.

His desperate gaze regarded the ring coolly, Draco ignoring the tears that threatened to spill. He knew naught why his body yearned to release the emotions within him, via tears. He only knew that he felt hollow and broken; but the hope and determination battled the desolate sensations within him.

None of these emotions would become triumphant, however. Draco knew this.

For the only emotion that would triumph in the end, was his victory.

For Draco always succeeded. He always got what he wanted. Draco always won.

His thoughts returned to his father who searched the lands for Draco's fiancé. Lucius's purpose and determination was palpable, given that he had yet to return to the hotel in three days. His father had never failed in finding his prey. Perhaps Draco inherited his predatory nature from his father? From his father drumming into him that everything you want to possess can be acquired through determination, resilience and force.

Perhaps.

A knock sounded at his hotel room door, Draco placing the pink engagement ring back into its box before slipping it into the pocket of his sweatpants. He had carried the ring with him every day since he had first purchased it, two years ago. He didn't really know why he always had the ring with him, but it provided him with a mild sense of comfort. Perhaps because it represented O? Maybe.

Draco rose from his seat on the balcony and strode inside, through the bedroom and to the door. He opened it sharply, his impatient expression greeting Blaise who stood in the corridor of the forty-eighth floor.

"This just arrived," Blaise stated coolly, handing Draco a cheap piece of paper.

Muggle paper.

Draco snatched it from Blaise's grip, unfolded the paper and frowned down at the inscriptions.

 _Bangkok._

 _L.M._

* * *

Black rip-off designer stilettoes clacked against the filthy pavement, Octavia walking beside Pansy through the streets of Bangkok. The girls were dressed for partying, but they were hardly entering into such festivities. The man who would assist them in procuring passports and travel documents, had arranged to meet them at gentlemen establishment in the heart of the city.

To say that they were at ease, would be the grandest lie that Octavia would ever tell. Their veins were shuddering with anxiety, neither knowing what they were really getting themselves into. It had taken weeks to find this man, and countless encounters with frightening people. People whom Octavia had feared would kidnap them and sell them into human-trafficking.

There was no other way, though. It was either meet the man who could help them, or return home. They weren't even sure _how_ they could return home now. Without passports or magic, they had no way of leaving Thailand, for home or to continue their lives on the run. Either way, they were trapped in the country for the time being.

Octavia just hoped that they were given the key to their prison that very night. The key being passports, of course.

After selling her mother's ring, Pansy and Octavia could hardly complain about insufficient funds any more. They were even wealthier than when they had first fled. However, in their experience, it took very little for them to tear through their resources. So they had been extra careful regarding their expenses, at Pansy's demand.

Still. Octavia and Pansy were in need of clothes; which they acquired quite quickly. Currently, Octavia wore knock-off Louboutin stilettoes. They were patent leather, and rather simple in design. Just your run of the mill pumps. Her tight-fitted, short leather skirt hugged at her faint curves, and the black crop top pressed her perky breasts into her chest. A black ribbon decorated her neck, tied at the back of her neck, her tight curls falling freely and framing her cosmetic-painted face.

It was certainly an outfit that her father would disapprove of, that was for certain.

But Octavia was sure to dress exceptionally well, given the standard of the high-end strip-club they were journeying to. That, and she just really loved to dress up.

Yet, the outfit that adorned her, and she loved so dearly, had come at a high price. While it cost her practically nothing, in reality, it was purchased from the funds that her mother's ring had fetched. Octavia was not ashamed to admit that she had blubbered like a baby when she pawned the ring. Of course she cried; who wouldn't? It was the last piece of her mother that she had with her. And now, she had nothing of the woman she loved so dearly. The woman she missed and longed to see just once more, if only for a moment.

Octavia knew that there was no choice in selling the ring, however. It was that, or return home and face the wrath of her father and, worst of all, Draco. No thank you.

The threat of capture still remained. She knew that. Pansy knew that.

There was no way that their fathers and fiancés had departed Thailand. No. They still scoured the city of Phuket, no doubt, searching for the girls who were no longer there. Their quest for passports had brought them to Bangkok, and they hoped to only remain there for that night only. For in the morning, after acquiring the needed documents for travel, they would be on the first flight out of the blasted country, and journey far away from their chasers.

Away from Draco.

It was the fear of his wrath that had her scurrying off like a frightened child, desperate to escape the monster that he was, among other things. Octavia was still averse to her engagement with Draco, but the fear he plagued her with is what drove her away in the first place. And after seeing him on the boardwalk above her, three weeks ago, her fear had only awoken and increased.

The intimidating appearance of Draco still flashed in her anxious mind, sending shivers down her spine. Octavia had always been afraid of him – at least, since he started his attacks on her all those years ago. But now … Oh, now she was downright terrified of the man. For that is what he was now; a man.

No longer a teenage boy who tormented her. No. He was much more than that now.

The radiation of power that emitted from his muscular form still vibrated against her skin. He was different. Powerful. Stronger. Scarier.

Octavia had absolutely no intention of discovering just how much he had changed. So she did everything within her power, Pansy right by her side, to escape the hunters that trailed them through Thailand.

And she just hoped to whatever God existed, that she was successful.

* * *

The girls, giddy with glee, stumbled through the corridor of their hotel, Pansy clutching a manila envelope in her hand. An envelope that contained their freedom; their passports.

Despite the shockingly atrocious cost of the passports, Octavia and Pansy were in high spirits. They had their flights booked for the wee hours of the morning, and were soon to depart Bangkok in favour of Brazil. Their freedom and escape were within reach. Just a touch away from their slender fingers. So close.

So very close.

Octavia tottered beside her intoxicated friend as she fished out the card that would grant her access to her hotel room. A card that was a key, no less. Muggle technology still impressed and perplexed her beyond belief. Even after two years and five months. She never failed to be impressed.

"Ok," Pansy hiccupped, Octavia grinning at her drunken friend. "Pack quickly; we'll go straight to the airport and wait there for the flight, alright?"

"Alright," Octavia laughed, finding that Pansy was being rather paranoid.

Pansy had insisted that they depart for the airport six hours prior to their flight departure, just in case. Octavia relented of course, despite not sharing Pansy's paranoia. She would humour her friend, and sleep at the airport. No big deal.

"You got six minutes, _Annabelle_ ," Pansy instructed, her words slurring.

Octavia performed a mocking salute in response, Pansy snickering as she pulled out the card for her hotel room.

Octavia entered through the door to her hotel room, after being allowed access by swiping her card through the slot, a drunken Pansy stumbling through the door to her own room.

The moment the white door slammed shut behind her, Octavia was faced with the wall that separated the foyer from the bedroom, no doors segregating the two areas. She hummed atrociously, attempting to replicate the beat of 'Lose My Breath' by Destiny's Child, as she tossed her phone onto the buffet table against the wall. She continued to hum and dance a little as she pulled the roll of money out of her bra and dropped it beside her phone.

Pansy had taken the manila folder that contained the passports, deciding that she didn't trust them in the hands of Octavia. Of course, she hadn't said so directly, but Octavia knew that Pansy suspected that the wizard-born was the reason that they were found in the first place. Pansy was correct; but neither girl knew that.

Pretty much dancing her way around the wall, Octavia swayed and bobbed her head as she kicked her stilettoes off, stumbling slightly at the multi-tasking. She flicked on the light to the bedroom, and then she froze.

One hand rested on the light-switch, her lips parted and eyes wide with shock and despair. Loose curls framed her horrified face, her hazel eyes dimming and body slumping with defeat.

For her eyes were locked onto molten silver orbs.


	4. Chapter 4

The Wizard-Born Muggle: Chapter 4

Draco Malfoy sat on the armchair in the corner of the room, his fierce silver eyes on her. His posture was threatening but relaxed as he reclined in the seat, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. Despite the light of the room being switched on, Octavia felt as though there was a dark aura surrounding Draco, his silver eyes glowing ferociously through the shadows.

A male figure sat on the edge of her bed, facing the balcony through the window doors, his head bowed and hands clasped between his thighs. Her father; his back to her, and utterly silent. He didn't even flinch when she entered the room, and made no move to look at her, let alone greet the daughter he hadn't seen in over two years. The daughter he had given no other choice but to escape.

Her heart plummeted to her stomach, which twisted in knots, a lump in her throat as tears welled up in her wide terrified eyes. The hazel eyes had not left Draco's terrifying stare. Not once. They were locked in his gaze. Trapped. Like she was.

Trapped. Caged.

Like an animal.

Swallowing back a thick sob, Octavia's face scrunched up, tears streaming down her cheeks as her father slowly rose from the bed. Her pained eyes wrenched out of Draco's chilling stare, fixing on her father instead. His back remained to her, not a soul in the room speaking as he turned slowly to face her. The silence that blanketed the room was the most deafening she had ever endured, Octavia only hearing her heartbeat thumping against her eardrums.

A soft whimper escaped her damp lips as she met her father's dark eyes, drinking in the familiarity of his handsome face. How she longed to rush over to him and embrace the father she missed dearly. But the sheer look of utter disappointment in his eyes warded her off such a greeting. Her father remained silent, the anger and disappointment clashing in his stormy eyes as he took in his daughter's revealing attire.

Octavia wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling ashamed as she looked down at the floor, tears stinging at her anguished and miserable eyes and rolling down her cheeks. Her peripheral vision alerted her to the fact that her father shook his head in disapproval before sighing almost inaudibly.

What did she expect, though? That he would dismiss her faux-leather skirt and revealing crop top? That he would overlook her provocative muggle attire in favour of embracing his daughter? In all honesty, Octavia did not know. All she knew, was that she hardly expected to find her father and Draco in her hotel room.

Leonardo spoke not a word as he walked toward Octavia, her hopeful eyes moving up to his face. But he did not look at her. His gaze looked passed her as he approached, and walked by her as though she was not even there. Her heart tore apart inside of her chest.

Sniffing, Octavia wiped at the dampness on her cheeks, returning her gaze to Draco as he slowly rose from the armchair, never taking his ominous eyes from her. She watched as he waved his hand toward her newly-purchased overnight bag, everything she owned flying out of the closet, drawers, and bathroom. It wasn't much, but everything she owned flew through the air and packed themselves neatly into the travelling bag.

The cream and brown overnight bag, once filled, zipped itself up before shrinking in size and levitating towards a silent Draco. She watched as he took the bag from the air and slipped it into the pocket of his trousers, his furious gaze leaving hers for the first time since she had entered the bedroom.

Octavia knew. There was no escape now. She had her chance, and she had failed.

This was her life now.

It had always been her life; she was just foolish enough to hope. To dream.

How silly of her.

Octavia turned with lazy movements, walking toward the door of the hotel room, her bare feet connecting softly with the lush carpet on the ground. The muffled footsteps behind her informed her that Draco was following her into the hallway outside.

As she departed the hotel room, a shiver ran up her spine at Draco's nearing proximity, the pureblood almost stepping on her bare heels. He was far too close. As though he would lose her if he were an inch farther away.

She stepped through the open door, walking into the corridor as her miserable watery eyes glanced around. Her father stood a metre away, his back to her, waiting for his daughter to fall into line behind him.

She did.

Octavia walked in complete and utter silence down the corridor, her father in front of her, and Draco behind. She didn't turn around at the noise of a heart-breaking sob sounding out behind her. She knew the sob belonged to Pansy. She knew that Pansy and her escorts – undoubtedly her father and Blaise – would be escorting her in the same fashion. One in front, and one behind. Ensuring that no further escape attempts could occur.

She felt like a mouse. A tiny and controlled mouse, being led through the maze, right in the very direction of the trap that awaited her.

A trap set by a wolf.

* * *

No shoes adorned her feet. They were either forgotten back in the hotel room she already missed, or they were packed into her overnight bag that resided in Draco's pocket. Either way, she said nothing of it. Both her father and Draco knew that she was without shoes. For she walked between them up the cobblestone path to Zabini Manor barefoot. Yet, neither Draco nor her father had addressed her lack of footwear. She didn't doubt that it was a punishment of sorts.

Her tanned feet ached with each harsh step she took, her perfectly manicured toe-nails now featuring specks of dirt and mud from their travels. First, she had side-along apparated with her stoic and tense father to the grimy streets of the city, Phuket. Second, she had endured a dreadfully long and silent wait for the return portkey to activate in the foyer of a hotel. Her father and Alexander Parkinson had paid for their stay at the hotel for a few moments, but it felt like an eternity being left without her father in Draco's company. Draco didn't speak a word to her, however. He only looked at her. His stare alone had almost reduced her to tears.

Third, Octavia found herself portkeyed to the Ministry of Magic in Diagon Alley, causing her to suspect that the portkey used was emergency issued. Her suspicions were confirmed when her father left to pay the administration fees, that were only required once one received an emergency portkey. It didn't go unnoticed by Octavia that whenever her father left her side, Draco approached her. He didn't speak. He only watched her. And she had no doubt in her mind that he neared his proximity to ensure that she couldn't take so much as a step away from the group.

Fourth, and final; Octavia had, again, side-along apparated with her father to the borders of the wards at Zabini Manor, Draco accompanying them.

Her bare feet were aching, cold and dirty as she walked up the cobble-stone pathway toward the lavish Manor in the distance. A flicker of nostalgic fondness flamed inside of her as her blood-shot hazel eyes gazed up at the remarkable home.

For so long, Octavia had yearned to rest her gaze on the brilliant home she loved so dearly. For so long, Octavia had yearned to see the residents of the brilliant home, those of whom she loved greatly.

But not like this. Never had she wished to be forced back here against her will. Although, she had come willingly, hadn't she? Not a single word of defiance escaped her swollen lips since seeing her father and fiancé in her hotel room. Surely the tears that escaped her defeated hazel eyes were enough to tell that she was not prepared to come home? Yes. Of course is was.

Alas, her wishes did not matter. Not really. They never did.

Her father pushed through the grand double doors of her home, revealing the opulent foyer she used to run around in as a child. And as an adult too, if we're being totally honest. It didn't matter how many years went by; Octavia would remain childish until her dying day.

Octavia stepped through the doors after her father, Draco at her heels. Her gaze darted around the grand atrium, despair and adoration shining in the hazels of her eyes. But they filled with yearning and pure love as she saw her mother rush into the foyer from the dining room, Narcissa by her side.

"Octavia!" Mediana choked out, sprinting across the foyer.

The wizard-born released a sob of adoration and relief as she saw her mother, both women running across the foyer. They slammed into each other and wrapped their arms around the other tightly, both shaking with the sobs that took over them.

"Mum," Octavia whimpered, her arms around the woman's waist in a vice-like embrace.

Mediana's tight embrace almost squeezed the air out of her lungs, but Octavia barely noticed. She just tried to suck in air to her constricted body, and returned the hug just as firmly. Her mother's tears could be felt dampening her hair, a few drops of the salty substance trickling down onto her bare shoulder as Mediana embraced her. Her mother blubbered and shook with sobs as Octavia remained trapped in her arms, the wizard-born snivelling and sniffing, surprisingly still having tears left to shed.

Perhaps she had an endless supply?

Once her mother reluctantly removed her arms from Octavia, Narcissa approached swiftly and embraced the surprised girl. Octavia raised her brows at the informal gesture of greeting before a watery smile graced her face, and returned the gentle hug.

Narcissa squeezed her a little before ending their brief embrace and stepping away, the Malfoy matriarch's blue eyes seemingly filled with tears. Octavia instantly recalled her backtalk to the woman at the Banquet over two years ago.

 _'You're not my mother, so stop acting like you are.'_

The sharp words would have undoubtedly stung Narcissa's heart, but Octavia had not thought about it until now. With Narcissa's glassy blue eyes gazing into hers, Octavia suddenly felt overcome with sorrow and shame. For Narcissa was her mother, in a sense. Not really; not like Mediana, who was truly her mother. But Narcissa had treated her like a daughter throughout her life, and Octavia felt like a monster as those words replayed in her head mockingly.

Mediana's sweet smile brought Octavia back to the present, her mother's hand moving to gently cup her face, and her shining dark eyes speaking of the love she held for her daughter.

Fuck.

The guilt within Octavia dared to never leave. It threatened to bring her to her knees in shame and destroy her. Had she really caused so much pain? Yes. It seemed so. For Narcissa and Mediana's eyes screamed with agony and relief, swarming with the adoration they felt for Octavia.

A blush crept up her damp cheeks as Mediana glanced down at Octavia's outfit, dropping her hand to her side as she pursed her lips. Oh. Octavia had forgotten about her less than elegant appearance.

Narcissa noticed the attire at the same time, both women reverting back to their stern selves as they regarded it with blatant disapproval. And then they saw Octavia's bare feet.

If possible, Octavia flushed further, her cheeks aflame with mortification. She fleetingly glanced down at her dirty feet, anxiously wiggling her toes before her father's sharp voice yanked her out of the moment.

"Come!" Leonardo barked, Octavia turning around to see her father ascending the staircase.

Octavia sighed as Draco followed her father up the stairs, neither man turning to look at the wizard-born. She could feel their anger in the air, tasting it on her tongue.

The moment she had been dreading.

* * *

Her mind was blank, and ears unhearing. Her hazel eyes gazed at the coffee table as she sat on the leather sofa, her legs crossed at the ankles and hands clasped properly in her lap. She heard, but did not listen to, Draco and her father's reprimanding of her behaviour and escaped. The fury and venom of both men lashed around the study like sharp whips, hitting her repeatedly, but she felt nothing.

Octavia had gone numb.

She was numb to the despair of being caught; she was numb to the pain and hurt in her father's voice, that was laced with outrage; she was numb to the scolding words of Draco as he spat venom at her through words; she was numb to her surroundings that should have been of another country- of another life.

Alas, she had been captured and brought home.

It was over now. Octavia knew this. There was no use in resisting it anymore.

From the words that Draco and Leonardo bellowed relentlessly, Octavia had learned that her engagement was still in place. The contracts had not been annulled, despite her escape that spanned over two and a half years, and her fate remained in the pale hands of Draco Malfoy.

Game over.

Checkmate.

You lose.

In her defeat, she had learned of many things whilst sitting silently on the sofa.

Octavia had learned that her outfit was that of a whore's, and she looked the part. She had learned that her sun-kissed skin was unflattering- why Draco felt the need to comment on her tan was beyond her. But he had, and she heard, yet said nothing.

So many things Octavia had learned in the hour of being shouted at relentlessly: She is a child; selfish; spoilt; beyond reason; her engagement remained; she had a press-conference in two days to address the recent scandals; she would be happy at said press-conference; she was under house-arrest for the time being; the wedding ceremony will be conducted within two months; her muggle attire will be burned by the house-elves; Pinky's ownership will be transferred to her father; she will no longer associate with Hermione Granger; she will see Pansy Parkinson only when absolutely necessary.

Yes, Octavia had learned so many things.

And not one of them provoked a reaction from her defeated self.

For she was numb.

* * *

Robotically, Octavia walked through the corridors of the maze that was Zabini Manor. Draco's hands were stuffed into the pockets of his trousers as he escorted her to her bedroom, remaining silent. Thankfully.

Octavia was grateful that he didn't speak, and hoped for his silence to continue. For she would not hear him, if he did speak.

Fleetingly, through the haze in her mind, Octavia noticed that her dirty feet marked the pristine marble floors that she walked down. She didn't care. Her hazel eyes were void of emotion, and movements lazy and slow.

She noticed in her peripheral vision that Draco's jaw clenched and unclenched repeatedly, his hands in his pockets balled into fists, as anger tensed at his body. Frequently, she glanced up at him, the top of her head only coming to his bicep as they walked in silence. Oh, yes; Draco was furious with her. Yet, he said nothing more since they departed her father's study.

Leonardo had dismissed her after berating his daughter for over an hour, deciding that she required an escort to assist her in returning to her bedroom. Apparently, her father had decided that she could not even be trusted with walking through the Manor alone.

After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the corridor within the north wing of the Manor, her bedroom door only metres away. Meaning, Octavia was mere metres away from an escape from Draco's foreboding presence.

The purple and cream door beckoned her as they approached, drawing her in with promises of sanctuary and familiarity. The plump pink lips of her face twitched, almost daring to twist into a nostalgic smile as they neared, Octavia's hazel eyes scanning the engravings on the wooden door. Unicorns, puppies, fairies and nymphs. All engraved onto the purple and cream door, at her request when only six years old.

It sparked something inside of her. Love and adoration. The thought of her animals in the Manor gardens reignited the life within her, Octavia suddenly desperate to go to them. She wondered if they would recognise her. If they would love her still. If they would forgive her abandonment of them.

One could hope.

As they reached the double doors to her bedroom, Octavia placed her hand on the solid white-gold door handle and attempted to open it. It didn't budge. Was it locked by her father? That was strange; he had ordered her to return to her bedroom, so why would he have locked the door?

Oh. Of course.

Draco locked it.

Slowly and reluctantly, Octavia turned around to face her escort, her defeated hazel eyes meeting his cruel gaze. Draco stood a mere touch away from her, causing Octavia to step back into the hard door, putting as much distance between her and the demon as possible.

Draco raised his hand slowly, his muscular and tense body towering over her petite frame as she stared up at him patiently. She felt fear, yes. But she had been expecting this moment. So she waited, not bothering to plead with him. Her pleas would only fall on deaf ears.

The hand reached her loose curls, brushing through them gently, but the fierceness in his eyes ensured that she didn't relax. He gripped a single strand of her hair and yanked it from her head harshly, Octavia wincing from the sharp pain. She frowned at him as he kept his ferocious eyes on hers and slipped the hair into his trouser pocket.

How curious.

Of course, Octavia did not know that her strand of freshly-plucked hair was required for the ring to be cursed. And she was better off not knowing.

For now, at least.

Draco clenched his jaw tightly, those dreaded dimples appearing on his cheeks as he stepped forward, Octavia pressing back into the door. A frown creased at her brow as he pressed his body against hers and rested his forehead on hers. He did nothing else.

He just stood there. Their bodies pressed together slightly, his forehead on hers and his eyes closed as he rested his palms on the door at either side of her head. The muscular chest that pressed against her rose slightly as he inhaled, falling as he exhaled. He was either contemplating something of the greatest importance, or experiencing an inner battle with himself. Octavia didn't care to find out which one; she only wished for her bedroom door to open and take her away from Draco.

Draco's body tensed, the hardness of his muscles pressing against her as his hands clenched into fists against the door, still trapping the wizard-born. Octavia continued to gaze up at him, his forehead still on hers, her hazel eyes filling with apprehension as his upper lip curled and eyes remained shut.

A yelp escaped her swollen lips as his right fist drew back from the door before he punched it brutally. The assault missed Octavia's face by little more than an inch, the girl flinching as his forehead remained resting on hers, his eyes shut tightly. Yelp after yelp, squeal after squeal, Draco continued to pound his fist against the door, only a breath away from her face as she shook violently against him.

But Octavia was not entirely stupid; it was better the door than her face.

Tears streamed down her blotchy damp cheeks as her face scrunched up in palpable terror, Octavia whimpering as he beat his fist against her door repeatedly. She could taste desperation in the air, but did not know what it meant. What was he desperate for? Why was he desperate? He had won. He had found her.

She should have known all along; Draco always won.

Again and relentlessly, his fist connected with her door, smears of blood decorating the engravings, the skin of his knuckles scraped and torn. But he continued, reducing the terrified wizard-born to sobs of fear as she shook violently between him and the breaking door.

"Stop," Octavia whispered, her voice broken and hoarse. "Please, Draco."

Surprisingly, he stopped. He hit the door just one more time after her pleas.

His final assault against her door consisted of his palm slamming against it as he drew impossibly close to her. Her breasts were pushed painfully against her ribcage as the hardness of his body pressing firmly against her, her watery eyes shedding tears as she gazed up at him.

Slowly, so very slowly, Draco opened his eyes, Octavia blinking as she saw the redness in the silver. Blood-shot eyes met blood-shot eyes, both utterly silent except the harsh breaths from each of them. His nose touched hers, his rapid and hoarse breaths brushing over her trembling lips as his hands cupped her face firmly.

Draco's silvery eyes penetrated her wide hazel orbs, his fingers digging the smooth flesh of her face as she continued to shake and whimper. Yes. Desperation surrounded them. It consumed them. Devoured them.

Until nothing was left but heartache and misery.


	5. Chapter 5

The Wizard Born Muggle Chapter 5 

* * *

Two days since her capture, and Octavia found that it all felt rather surreal. There was no wave of realisation yet. The atmosphere of the grand home was considerably hostile, her father's anger radiating through the fucking walls. It was horrendous. Yet, Octavia didn't feel much of it. Mostly, she just felt numb.

Octavia assumed that the emotions would erupt within her when reality hit. It always hit. Until then, she played the part, moving, speaking and smiling monotonously. The tedium shone in her dim hazel eyes, the tightness of her smiles forced and faked. Perhaps Octavia had forced herself to feel numb? For if she allowed herself to feel, the realisations of what had occurred with Draco would come crashing down on her.

That night was the first and last time she had cried since her return home. She cried as he beat the door next to her head and she cried when he … No. Do not think of it. To think of it, would be to feel it. Octavia did not want to feel anything.

She didn't deserve to feel.

"Your tea is getting cold, dear." Mediana's soft voice spoke, pulling Octavia from her thoughts.

"What?" Octavia frowned, realising that she was on the balcony that faced the Malfoy Manor gardens.

Oh that's right. She had come to Malfoy Manor with her parents. The first time she had left her own home due to her house arrest. How funny. At age twenty, Octavia was 'grounded'. If she weren't so dazed, she may have laughed.

"You!" Narcissa snapped her fingers at the nearby servant standing by the double doors. "Lady Octavia requires a fresh pot of tea."

Octavia blinked at the woman as she ordered the servant boy around. Had Narcissa always been so rude? If she had, Octavia had never noticed it until now.

"Peppermint tea, yes?" Narcissa asked sweetly, her blue eyes on a vacant Octavia.

Slowly, Octavia nodded. Yes. Peppermint tea. It had always been her favourite. But why was there a voice screaming in her mind? Cautioning her. Warning her.

 _Anything but peppermint!_

How strange. Peppermint had always been her favourite flavour of tea. It was her preferred type of mint. Generally, Octavia had always been keen on the sharp flavour. So why had she suddenly gone off it?

Oh. That's right. Because it was Draco's taste.

"I'll have an Earl Grey, thank you." Octavia droned before returning her gaze to the spectacular gardens.

Earl Grey. It was an alright flavour. She wasn't exactly averse to it. Not like she was with peppermint now. Did Draco have to ruin everything she liked? It seemed so.

But it wasn't exactly Draco's fault, was it? Of course it was. But she wasn't entirely innocent either. A shiver ran through her spine as the memory threatened to creep into her dazed mind. Threatening to destroy her vacant, yet tranquil state.

Not today, memories.

Not today.

For that day, more than any other, Octavia had to ensure she was stable. Emotionally and mentally. She had to be focused. For that day was the day of the press conference.

"You are looking much better, dear." Mediana smiled, settled beside Narcissa on the outdoor chaise longue.

Octavia, seated across from the women, slowly returned her gaze to her mother.

"Sorry?" Octavia frowned, struggling to remember what her mother had just said.

"I said that you are looking better," Mediana repeated with a sympathetic smile.

Octavia knew that her mother was referring to her appearance the night she returned.

Nodding marginally, Octavia recalled her dirty dishevelled appearance the night she had returned to Zabini Manor. Yes, her appearance that night would have been rather confronting indeed. Not only were her feet dirty, her hair was wild and tousled, and her attire was less than appropriate given her standing.

"Is that a new gown?" Narcissa asked, pulling Octavia from her thoughts once again.

"Oh," Octavia frowned, looking down at her attire.

An ivory silk dress, floor-length with spaghetti straps and backless. It was a gift from Draco three years ago, and they all knew it.

"No, My Lady." Octavia responded in a robotic tone. "It was a gift for my seventeenth birthday."

"Oh, how silly of me," Narcissa smiled. "I do recall, now that you mention it. Rather stunning, is it not? Of course, Draco always did have splendid taste."

"Yes, My Lady." Octavia nodded, hardly hearing what the woman was saying.

"I remember that he spent considerable time and effort in acquiring that dress for you, dear." Narcissa continued as the servant placed a fresh pot of tea on the outdoor iron table.

"Draco tends to do that with Octavia's gifts, no?" Mediana prompted, both women attempting to rouse affection within the quiet wizard-born.

Little did they know, it had already been ignited. Laced with hatred and nausea, of course. The very reason for Octavia's vacant and silent state.

"Only the best for you, dear." Narcissa smiled, filling her cup with the freshly brewed tea. "Draco adores to spoil you, does he not? Always showering you with the finest of gifts. I believe it brings him great joy to see you happy."

"Most certainly," Mediana agreed. "The engagement ring he purchased for you, Octavia. Well, I am certain that you will simply adore it. Draco surely employs great care and thought when buying for you."

"Ah, that ring is spectacular." Narcissa smiled fondly. "Unique, like yourself, dear."

There was no barbed insult to Narcissa's words. But Octavia couldn't help but recall Draco's use of the very same word over two years ago. Unique.

 _"_ _A unique ribbon for a unique fiancé."_

Not said in fondness, that was for sure. It was a sharp insult, directed at her lack of magical abilities.

Octavia picked up the teacup and brought it to her lips, a sharp aromas seeping up her nostrils. Peppermint. Not Early Grey like she had ordered.

Sly witches.

Still, she drank it, relishing in the way it burned her tongue. Drowning in the pain that slithered over her tongue.

How ironic. It used to be Draco who would punish her. Now, it seemed, the task lay with herself. Octavia did as she required. She punished herself with the hot liquid swishing around her mouth.

Punishing herself with his taste.

* * *

Standing in the shadows of the corridor, Octavia pressed her back against the wall beside the ajar door to the parlour room. Her father was currently being entertained in said parlour room by the Malfoy men, and she was the topic of conversation. It was hardly surprising.

Octavia had feigned a need for the restroom, excusing herself from the mundane chatter on the balcony, in favour of seeking out the men. For with the men, she hoped came Blaise.

Octavia had not seen her brother since the night she was captured. He had not looked at her that fateful night, nor spoken to her. He had not been at Zabini Manor since she had returned. She was certain that he was avoiding her, but she hoped that she was wrong in her certainties. All Octavia needed in that moment was her brother. He would understand her pain and conflictions. He would be her rock and she would be the violent and unstable waters around it. She needed him.

Alas, if he was in the parlour, she did not hear him. His comforting voice did not sound out and soothe her aching soul. His voice did not sound out as he was not there. Only Lucius, Draco and her father were there. None of whom she wished to see.

But she hid in the shadows of the gloomy corridor, listening intently as the men conversed within the room. Unaware of Octavia's stealthy presence just outside of the ajar door.

"When do you predict that the ring will be ready?" Leonardo's familiar drawl sounded out.

"Within the week." Draco answered, his cold voice causing Octavia to bristle instantly.

He even frightened her when they weren't face to face. Would the fear every disperse? Would she always fear him? Even when they were old and grey?

Probably.

"Will you inform Octavia of the charms on the ring?" Lucius asked, Octavia frowning as she scooted closer to the door.

"I see no reason to conceal it from her," Draco responded. "Perhaps the knowledge of the charms will prevent another escape attempt."

"Perhaps," Leonardo repeated, seemingly agreeing.

"Has she expressed any interest in reconnecting with her ex-lover?" Lucius asked nonchalantly.

It took Octavia a moment to realise that they were speaking about Cedric. Funnily enough, she had forgotten all about him.

How peculiar.

"I do not believe so," Leonardo drawled, the sound of ice clinking against a tumbler joining his aristocratic tone. "Octavia has yet to request the return of her owl, so I am certain that she has not attempted to contact the man. Nor has she mentioned his name since her return home."

"The seeds planted in her mind will deter her from contacting him," Draco assured confidently. "Octavia is under the impression that Diggory presented an offer on Astoria's contract, so I do not doubt that she harbours less than favourable sentiments toward him."

"He did not extend the offer?" Leonardo asked.

"An offer was placed under his name," Draco answered, Octavia hearing the smirk in his tone. "But it was not of his own doing."

"What is to prevent him from divulging that information to my daughter, should they encounter one another?"

"100,000 galleons." Draco retorted, Octavia's eyes widening instantly.

"I see," Leonardo responded, Octavia knowing that he was practically giddy with glee.

They all were. She could hear it when they clinked their glasses together in a toast. They were all content with the manipulations of her meaningless life. How lovely.

And Cedric … Well, he was no better. He had evidently taken a bribe from Draco, instead of continuing his relationship with her. There it was; her worth. 100,000 galleons. Less than what she would spend on clothes in a single shopping spree.

"Now that he has the money," Lucius said. "What is to stop him from pursuing Octavia again?"

"I am no fool, father. I took precautions," Draco responded icily. "The release papers for his mother's imprisonment will automatically become null and void should he so much as utter a word of this to Octavia."

"Well," Leonardo cleared his throat. "I do not wish to pay the matter any more attention. Diggory has been taken care of, and his negotiations with the Greengrass's are close to completion."

Octavia frowned as she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest to hug herself. Was it wrong that she was angrier with Cedric in regards to the bribe? He took it after all. He accepted it, over her.

Draco presenting the bribe was to be expected. He was a Slytherin. He was the King of Slytherins and manipulations. His cunning mind was expected to perform such acts.

But Cedric?

She had given Cedric her body and affections. She had given him _her_. Octavia had essentially gone to war with her father for the man. The grief it had brought her was ultimately what led to her escape.

Was that the reason he did not arrive at the Banquet years ago? She had assumed that he had gotten carried away at his Bachelor party.

For some reason, Octavia was furious. At Cedric. Not at anyone else.

Just at Cedric.

She hoped that his offer was accepted by the Greengrass patriarch. For she knew depths of Astoria's despicable nature. It was a horrid fate to be wed to the girl.

A fate that she prayed would materialise for her treacherous ex.

* * *

A sweet smile graced her exceptionally pretty face, despite the incessant camera flashes nearly blinding her. Octavia crossed her legs at the ankles, her back straight and lady-like posture exuding poise and grace at all times. A façade. One that she always wore in public. Well, at least in the Wizarding World.

In the muggle world she could act as she pleased, and that she did. But she was no longer in the muggle world, and no longer on the run. She was in the Wizarding World now, flanked by her father and fiancé as she sat at the long conference table. Paparazzi and journalists crowded the space before her, shouting questions over one another as Octavia continued to smile sweetly.

In truth, Octavia's despair had dimmed over the last two days. Her return to the Wizarding World filled a hole in her that she didn't know was there in the first place. That awful ache and pang of her heart that plagued her over the past two years, had finally gone. She dismissed it as the returning company of her family.

Her family.

Her brother. The brother she had yet to see.

As Octavia had been under house-arrest since her return two days prior, she had not left the Zabini property until that day, under the watchful eyes of her mother, father and fiancé. She assumed that Blaise had been out and about, managing his own affairs regarding the return of his own fiancé, Pansy. Or perhaps he was avoiding her? Perhaps the pain of his sister's return, and therefore lack of freedom, caused him to deny her of his presence. She hoped not.

Her father inclined his head to a shouting journalist, the others quieting down immediately. The sweaty parasite of a man cleared his throat, parchment and quill levitating beside his head as he addressed Octavia directly.

"Many speculated that you and Lady Pansy Parkinson fled after learning of your engagements," the man stated, his greasy hair slicked to the side. "Care to address these rumours?"

"Of course," Octavia responded gracefully. "My engagement to Lord Draco Malfoy had been solidified quite some time before I began my travels. Pansy knew of her engagement to Blaise Zabini, my brother, since the early years of her childhood. It was with great consideration and many discussions with both, my fiancé and father, that my request to travel was approved. In no way was my lengthy and culturally educational vacation an escape from our fiancés."

Draco shot her a side-glance, his icy silver eyes scanning the composed profile of her stunning face. She didn't meet his gaze, and instead, kept her attention on the journalists. Draco took her hand in his, placing a gentle kiss on her palm, causing the wizard-born to turn and lock eyes with him. The smile that widened on her face was fake, he knew it instantly. But he kept his lips against the smooth palm of her hand, never breaking eye-contact with her.

Cameras continued to flash, but Octavia and Draco hardly noticed. She only saw the flash in his silver eyes, and he only saw her. Slowly, Draco lowered her hand and entwined her fingers with his, both of them returning their stares to the vermin in front of them.

The blush that resided on her cheeks was genuine, Draco suspecting that the memory of that night at her bedroom door was flashing in her mind. He would be correct.

"Is it true that you physically assaulted Lord Malfoy during a pureblood gathering, only days before your disappearance?" Another leech asked, parchment and quill at the ready.

Octavia sighed internally, the sweet smile remaining on her face.

"I do not know of this rumour," Octavia laughed, waving her free hand dismissively. "I can assure you, however, that under no circumstances would I employ violence against my fiancé. Also, I would prefer that you didn't refer to my travels as a 'disappearance', as it presents implications that could not be farther from the truth."

More flashes. More shouting. More questions.

Her head began to hurt, Octavia absolutely certain that she was experiencing the beginning stages of a migraine. It was all too much too soon. There was no time to adjust.

"So you leave halfway through your final year at Hogwarts, and we're supposed to believe that you went on vacation?" Rita Skeeter sneered, Octavia's nails digging into Draco's fingers.

Draco brushed the pad of his thumb over her fingers in response, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Attempting to comfort her. She almost scoffed.

A kind devil was still a devil.

"Believe, write and publish whatever you wish," Draco drawled coolly, his sharp silver eyes on Rita Skeeter. "Your name lacks credibility, so it is of no matter to us what you believe."

Octavia almost smirked at the shocked expression of the embarrassed woman, but she daren't. A lady didn't smirk. A lady sat still and spoke only when spoken to. A lady allowed her fiancé to come to her rescue, and accepted his assistance gracefully.

"My daughter will resume her studies at home," Leonardo informed the slimy journalists. "It is acceptable for a Lady to complete educational studies by means of a Governess. The agreement was arranged with my daughter prior to her departure."

The sounds of quills scratching away at parchment filled the room, only accompanied by the clicking of cameras. Flashes and chatter, shouts and more questions.

Always with the fucking questions.

"If the vacation was approved by yourself and Lord Malfoy," a female journalist asked Leonardo, Octavia recognising the girl to be Parvati Patil, "why postpone the marriage ceremony until after? Would it not be more appropriate for Lady Zabini to travel with a companion, preferably her husband?"

"My beloved fiancé," Draco drawled, answering the question aimed at Leonardo, "wished to travel with a close friend; Pansy Parkinson. I have the highest regard for my fiancé, and trust that knows no bounds. Octavia was granted her request, despite general expectations of companions. A decision that I would not change, if given the chance. Octavia has enjoyed her cultural education, and has now returned to her rightful place by my side."

"As the saying goes, 'a happy wife, a happy life'." Leonardo smirked, the journalists laughing as they took notes.

"Are there any further trips planned for Lady Zabini?" The greasy journalist asked, again not addressing Octavia.

Had they forgotten that she was there? Probably.

Who would want to speak to a puppet, when they could speak directly to the puppet-masters?

"Yes," Leonardo nodded, a smile playing at his lips. "Her honeymoon."

Draco smirked, his thumb still caressing Octavia's hand, despite it having relaxed gradually. He continued to brush his thumb over her soft skin. It was starting to irritate her.

"When will the wedding occur?" Parvati Patil asked, her quill twirling between her fingers.

"At present, we are undecided on an appropriate date." Leonardo responded. "As the season of nuptials approaches, dates are rather limited. However, we predict that the wedding ceremony will occur within two months."

"Lady Zabini," Parvati smiled, addressing the wizard-born directly. "How would describe your relationship with Lord Malfoy?"

Octavia instantly knew that Parvati was fishing for information for her friend, Lavender Brown. Attempting to find cracks in their relationship that Lavender could slip right through. Octavia was skilled enough in the art of gossip extraction to recognise the familiar glint in her brown eyes.

"I would describe my relationship with Draco as …" Octavia mused, turning to face the stoic man at her side.

Draco inclined his head in encouragement, squeezing her hand slightly as he pretended to be the kind man that he was not.

"Draco and I share a romantic relationship," Octavia smiled, returning her gaze to Parvati. It was only a half lie.

"So would you find it appropriate to say that you are in love?" Padma asked, arching her brow.

That was the fucking kicker right there.

The memories she attempted to fight off came crashing down on her without mercy. And all Octavia could manage through the attack on her mind was one word. A lie. A former truth. A contradiction.

"Yes."

* * *

 _It wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't supposed to happen. Draco should be hurting her, not doing this. He was supposed to punish her and further fuel her hatred for him. Not this. Anything but this._

 _Octavia wanted to puke. She wanted to vomit, cry, scream, sob. She wanted to rip his face off with her nails and melt into his arms as despair took hold of her. She wanted his love, his hatred. She wanted all of him to destroy her right in that moment, so that she wouldn't have to feel what assaulted her. The pain, the misery, the arousal, the comfort. The self-hatred. Her body's betrayal. She wanted to feel anything other than what she did._

 _Draco had kissed her first. He had initiated it after beating her door and tearing the skin from his knuckles in the process. He had cupped her face firmly in his hands and inhaled her scent deeply, desperate to have her strawberry and miserable aroma invade and consume his senses. His lips had pressed against hers, damp with the tears she shed. He relished in the tears, his tongue flicking out and tasting her salted defeat. For it tasted of his victory._

 _His nose touched hers, his soft lips on hers. His hands still cupped her face, tilting it upwards, her neck almost horizontal as he aligned their faces. When had he grown so tall? His body curved over hers, like a predatory snake, ready to attack._

 _Then it happened. His hands flew to the back of her head, grabbing fistfuls of her curls and pushing his tongue between her parted lips. Peppermint. She had almost forgotten the taste of his warm tongue and mouth. She loved peppermint._

 _Octavia couldn't understand her reaction; and trust me, she tried. She tried to pin-point the exact moment she submitted to him, but she failed. It was all a hazy memory, filled with desperation and raw need. The comforting way his tongue swept across hers caused Octavia's tongue to flick over his._

 _It was at that moment that Octavia knew; she was just as fucked up as him._

 _It didn't stop her, though. If anything, it encouraged her. She sought the comfort that he offered, and she took it greedily. Perhaps as greedily as he took her warm mouth, his tongue exploring every crease and crevice of hers, his hands buried in her curls as though he was afraid to let go. He was afraid. He couldn't let go. He would never let go._

 _Her conscience had left her. Her morality was gone. It had fled, like she had once._

 _All she was left with was him. The demon. The devil._

 _Draco._

 _Her eyes fluttered shut, tears leaking out the corners as she gripped onto his expensive black shirt, twisting at the material as her tongue fully came to life. They battled ferociously, Octavia knowing that she would lose. She always lost. For Draco always won._

 _There was so much passion in his kiss; in the way he devoured her mouth- her soul. He consumed her entirely, both shedding tears, Octavia considerably more than him. The kiss grew wet, their tongues slick with one another's taste and the saltiness of the combined tears._

 _Her lips remained parted as he groaned into her mouth, his hands gripped so tightly in her hair that her scalp was in total agony. His tongue swirling around hers, tasting every crevice and crease of her mouth. Exploring her sweet mouth hungrily. His lips pushed against hers so harshly, she was sure he was bruising her._

 _Her mind in complete fog as he devoured her, her back scraping against the engravings of the door. But even in the haze of the fog, Octavia noticed. She noticed, and it only brought her more tears. The ache – the constant and dull ache in her heart that had plagued her for years – was gone._

 _Her tongue flicked against his, dancing and fighting his peppermint tongue, his grip in her hair tightening further, causing her to whimper in pain. He swallowed her whimpers and tears, giving her his own tears and groans in return, pushing his body further against hers, his blatant erection pressed against her tummy as he consumed her._

 _And then he said it. Those fucking words. Right into her willing and responsive mouth. Their lips connected. Moist, wet, swollen, desperate. He ruined it all. His voice cracking. Hoarse and low; terrifying and desperate._

 _Those fucking words._

 _'_ _I missed you.'_


	6. Chapter 6

The Wizard-Born Muggle Chapter 6

* * *

Octavia wandered through the upper levels of the north-wing aimlessly, bored out of her damn mind. With her father and mother departing the Manor earlier that morning, yet to return, she found herself feeling considerably lonely. Her mother was essentially her own constant source of company since her return home, and as she was unable to leave the Manor boundaries, she had no other means of companionship.

One week and six days since her return home. It had gone by dreadfully slow and impossibly fast. It felt like yesterday that she was on the beaches of Phuket, splashing in the salty waters of the ocean with Pansy. But it also felt like a life-time ago. A distant memory, or perhaps a story that belonged to another. Octavia longed to return to those days, but couldn't imagine it now that she was home.

The nostalgic comfort that the Zabini Manor offered her was unmatched by the ever-changing hotel rooms that she and Pansy had stayed at, over the past two and a half years. A part of her wanted to stay, while another wanted to flee. It mattered naught either way; she had to stay. There was no choice.

There was no escape.

Ambling through the corridor, Octavia hummed atrociously to herself as her fingers grazed along the wall. How she longed for company.

Octavia found herself wishing that the Malfoys would visit, or at least Narcissa. That is just how desperate she was to relieve the loneliness.

* * *

Draco and Blaise stepped out of the green flames that engulfed them in the fireplace, entering the atrium of Zabini Manor. They had just returned from the Ministry of Magic, where they had represented their families on the Board of Trustees. The Board, and their respective families, represented 'the people' of the Wizarding World when new Acts were presented to the Law Department. The Acts were proposed from all areas of the Ministry, and on that day in particular, a variety of Muggle Relations Acts.

The task was mundane and tedious, to say the least. Time after time, Draco and Blaise had manipulated and coerced their fellow Board members into denying and rejecting the Acts of their choosing. It was too easy, and lacked the challenge they craved.

Blaise found it rather difficult to focus during the five-hour meeting, suspecting that Draco's tart mood was directed at him. Blaise knew his comrade well enough to sense when he was the subject of his anger. Yet, Draco remained perfectly composed and silent as they slipped off their robes and handed them to the house-elves that greeted them in the foyer.

"Are you going to enlighten me as to the cause of your displeasure?" Blaise drawled coolly, unbuttoning his high-neck suit-jacket and tossing it at the bowing house-elf.

Draco followed suit, removing his attire until he stood in black slacks, shiny leather shoes and a white shirt. He didn't respond.

He didn't have to respond.

Draco set to rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, informing Blaise with that movement alone of what was about to occur. Blaise clenched his jaw and rolled up the sleeves of his own shirt, his dark eyes remaining fixed on the silent man in front of him.

Blaise met Draco's ferocious silver eyes, the blonde-haired pureblood stepping backwards slowly, creating an appropriate amount of distance between the two.

"If you ever assist her in escaping again," Draco said quietly, his tone low and threatening as he craned his neck. "I will strip every piece of skin from your body."

Ah.

So he knew.

Almost as soon as Draco had finished speaking, the two moved slowly, circling the foyer as their eyes remained connected. They had danced this dance so many times before; their sparring sessions were constant and brutal. But Blaise found himself a to be a little apprehensive, given the cruel glint in Draco's eyes. He believed Draco's promise; if Blaise helped Octavia flee again, he would die at the hands of his life-long friend. There was no doubt about it.

"How did you discover the truth?" Blaise asked, baffling himself as he attempted to stall the sparring session.

The house-elves watched with big wide eyes, fear evident in their gazes as they glanced between their Lords.

"You should be more careful with what wards you place on your pensieve." Draco drawled coolly, his icy tone shredding the thick air around them. "Lest your memories fall into the hands of enemies."

Blaise smirked; they _had_ fallen into the hands of an enemy. An enemy, an ally and a friend.

A brother.

The house-elves watched on with wide and terrified eyes, trembling and crying silently at the scene that was about to unfold before them. The house-elves were no strangers to observing the sparring sessions between their Lords, whether it be Draco, Blaise or Lucius and Leonardo. The fights were common occurrences in the Manors of Lords and Ladies, but it was different this time.

For one, it was about to take place in the foyer of the mansion, not the combat room; where it was supposed to happen under the supervision of instructors. Another difference was the thick and suffocating atmosphere of raw rage that pressed down on the occupants of the atrium.

The most significant difference, however, was the pure venomous truth in Draco's words to Blaise. The threat of gruesome torture and warnings.

Blaise was ashamed to admit that he was taken off guard as Draco lunged forward, his pale fist connecting with his face. It was always Blaise who issued the first hit. Always.

It seemed that Draco's fury had gotten the better of him. There was no skill in the attack from Draco, not a speck of his professional training in the second punch to Blaise's face. No; it was only bloodlust and fury.

Blaise coughed, blood instantly spilling out of his now-burst lip as he jumped back, Draco's third punch missing him by a millimetre. Blaise stumbled backwards, spinning around and barely missing Draco's repeat attacks.

The Italian pureblood crouched down to escape Draco's high-kick, blood dripping into his eyes, blurring his vision. Swiftly righting himself once a metre away from Draco, Blaise spun around to initiate his attack, but was thrown to the ground by the sheer force of Draco's kick against his chest. Blaise inhaled sharply at the constricting pain in his chest, his heart jittering at the collision. He landed on his back on the marble floor, winding him further as he tried to get to his feet.

Blaise only managed to kneel before Draco had a grip on his neck and continued to brutally beat his comrade to a pulp.

* * *

Octavia's bare feet collided with the lush carpet of the corridors, her curls billowing behind her as she bolted through the Manor. The portraits' words echoed in her mind, over and over again, her heart pounding violently as she raced through the mansion.

 _Fight in the foyer!_

Jeez. She fleetingly felt as though were back at Hogwarts, the portraits replacing the students in their excitement of a fight. But Octavia wasn't excited. For she knew that there would only be two people who allow themselves to enter into a violent confrontation in the foyer, and not the combat room. A real fight.

The harsh sounds of her breathing were muffled by the sound of her rapid footsteps as she reached the first level, stopping at the top of the staircase as she gaped in horror at the scene in the foyer.

"STOP!" Octavia screeched, taking off at a dangerous run down the marble staircase. "DRACO, STOP!"

Tears ran down her cheeks, from a seemingly endless supply, as she bolted down the staircase, praying to the Gods that she would not fall. Praying to Merlin that Draco stopped and didn't turn his attack on her.

Her love for her brother overcame her fear of Draco as she ran toward them, her watery eyes wide with horror.

Blaise crouched on the ground, Draco stomping down on his back before kicking him in the stomach and flipping her bloodied brother over. The wretched sounds of Blaise's wheezing went unheard over the sound of Draco punching into him brutally, showing not the slightest speck of mercy in his attacks.

Octavia had never seen such violence in her life; such brutality. Bile crept up in her throat as she stood a metre away from the assault, her body shaking, fists clenched at her sides as she screamed.

"DRACO, STOP! STOP, PLEASE!"

Nothing. He either didn't hear her, or cared naught for her distress. He just kept hitting. And hitting. And hitting.

Never stopping.

Blaise wasn't moving. He was wheezing and grunting, but his swollen eyes were closed and body limp. The blood of her brother dripped off of Draco's fists, the blond still beating every bit of Blaise's sagging body.

Love destroyed all sense of self-preservation within Octavia as she ran toward the danger. She threw herself at Draco, latching onto his back as she slapped at his head and the side of his blood-spattered face repeatedly.

"STOP! DON'T TOUCH HIM!" Octavia wailed, Draco ceasing his attacks at once. "DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM!"

Draco whipped his arm back, grabbing her waist and spinning them around. Octavia grunted as her back connected with the marble ground, Draco on top of her petite frame, his hands on either side of her head as he stared down at her. A frown creased at his forehead as she continued her attack on him, slapping and punching at his unmoving face as she squirmed beneath him. Her weak assaults caused no damage in the slightest, Draco's hands clenched into fists as he stared down at his distraught kitten.

"YOU'RE A MONSTER!" Octavia shrieked, her voice thick with tears and she flailed beneath him, her little fists connecting with his uninjured face. "I FUCKING HATE YOU, DRACO. I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!"

Draco clenched his jaw as he pushed himself from her body, moving to stand above her, his fierce silver eyes staring down at her. Octavia sobbed and cried as she squirmed, crawling over to her unconscious brother and crouching over him.

Draco tilted his head at the frightened, but protective stance she had taken over Blaise's limp body, the wizard-born shaking and sobbing as she shielded Blaise from Draco.

A pang in his heart attacked as he realised that she would never take the same protective stance for him. She would never jeopardize her fragile self for him.

But he would for her.

Draco stepped toward her cowering form, Octavia whimpering at the sound of his approaching footsteps. Slowly, he dropped to his knee behind her, his silver eyes scanning every part of her trembling back. Her knees were bent as she crouched over the limp figure of Blaise, her feet fidgeting anxiously as she snivelled against Blaise's chest.

Raising his bloodied hand, Draco ran his fingers through her dishevelled curls, staining them with the blood of her brother. He frowned and waved his hand, causing the blood to disappear from her hair, knowing that she would cry harder if she saw it.

"Summon a healer," Draco barked at the nearby house-elf, the little creature shivering and crying as it clutched onto his master's robes. "Now!"

The house-elf dropped the robes and disapparated with a crack, Draco returning his stormy stare to Octavia as she whined and sobbed and trembled and wept. Draco remained directly behind her, brushing her curls with his fingers as they waited for the healer. Each time the blood on his fingers marked her hair, he washed it away with wandless magic and repeated his actions.

It took little more than five minutes for the house-elf to return, apparating right into the foyer with a healer in tow. The medical man, clad in pristine white robes, gasped as he was met with the gruesome scene in the foyer of the elite.

Blaise Zabini lay sprawled out on the marble floor, blood smearing his features, covered by the cowering girl that crouched over him. Draco knelt behind the girl, seemingly comforting her as he ran his fingers through her curls, watching her back shiver with the sobs that consumed her.

The healer jolted into action, barking orders at the house-elves in the foyer and levitating Blaise from the floor. Octavia snivelled as she wiped at her tear-stained cheeks, shimmying away from her floating brother and watching his body levitate up the stairs. The chief house-elf guided the healer and his floating Master up the stairs to Blaise's bedroom, Octavia kneeling on the floor as she watched with hitched breaths and teary eyes.

A shriek tore through her throat as Draco slipped his arm around her waist and helped her to her feet. The moment she was standing, Octavia yanked her body out of his hold and turned on him, her curls wild and eyes furious.

"If you touch him again," Octavia blubbered, her chest heaving as fury took its hold on her, "I will reject you on the altar. I will humiliate you in public every chance I get, and I'll never stop. I'll tell everyone what I really think about you. The minute your finger touches my brother, everything you have ever done to me will be spread across the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ before you can even blink."

Throughout her threatening rant, Draco placed his hands in his pockets, regarding her patiently as his brow arched. He remained entirely silent as she shoved passed him and ran up the staircase, presumably to check on her brother and the medical assessment.

Draco removed a handkerchief from his pocket, using it to wipe the spots of Blaise's blood from his face before tossing it onto the floor. With that, he retrieved his robes from the trembling house-elf by the fireplace, and left without a backwards glance.

* * *

After a long and trying day at the office, Hermione slumped back in her chair at her desk. The room that served as her office, as well as the office of three others, was brightly illuminated by the magical balls of light that hovered above. The other intern, Paula Inkberry, sat at her own desk across the small room, furiously taking notes on the standard Ministry issued parchment.

Hermione picked at a takeaway salad as she sat at her desk, piles and stacks of unfinished paperwork almost drowning her. Lethargy had taken over, and Hermione resorted to removing a Vitamix Draught from her desk drawer. She didn't drink it straight away, however, for the burst of energy it provided was instantaneous. Hermione wished to save the two-hour long energy stores for when she resumed filling out the paperwork.

Right now, she was not doing that. She was eating her first meal of the day: Dinner. As her schedule was impossibly full, Hermione found that she was losing weight, having not found enough time to eat her required three meals a day over the past few months. Stabbing at a seared piece of chicken breast with her plastic fork, Hermione grabbed the battered copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from amidst the swarm of folders and paperwork.

She had read it several times that day, but found that she needed to again.

On the front page of the _Prophet_ was a large picture of Octavia Zabini, smiling and waving at the camera, Draco Malfoy by her side. Every time Hermione looked at the picture, she felt her heart ache for her captured friend, seeing the falseness in the sweet smile of the pretty wizard-born. Although, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if the affectionate glint in Malfoy's cold eyes was genuine or not.

The Malfoy Lord had his right arm snaked around Octavia, his hand gripped firmly onto the side of her waist. He stared down at her coolly as she waved and smiled at the cameras, but every time the photograph replayed, Hermione could have sworn that his lips twitched slightly. Almost unnoticeably, but as though he was resisting the urge to smile.

Of course, that was a silly notion. It was Draco Malfoy. The cruellest and coldest man alive. If anything, he would smirk- not smile.

The tasteful article of Octavia's return from her 'vacation' was written by none other than Parvati Patil, Hermione's old dormitory mate from Hogwarts. Prior to her final year as Head Girl, of course. Hermione suspected that Parvati had been paid to write the article in its tasteful and delicate manner, given the girl's previous sentiments toward Octavia.

Parvati hadn't particularly disliked Octavia, but her best-friend did; Lavender Brown. As far as Hermione knew, Lavender was still pining after Draco. Of course, Hermione didn't know much on the topic, for she had never been one for gossip, and her sources were very limited these days.

Octavia used to be her primary source of the gossip that Hermione cared naught about. Perhaps Octavia would resume her prior role in Hermione's life, now that she had returned? But given that the article stated that Octavia's return was a day shy of two weeks ago, Hermione doubted it.

The wizard-born had yet to contact Hermione since her return home, and Hermione didn't doubt that it was due to her family. Perhaps a part of her punishment?

Hermione hoped that if it were a punishment, it would be short-lived. For she missed her friend dearly, the little duo of Luna and Hermione feeling incomplete without Octavia.

Perhaps soon she would hear from Octavia.

Hermione hoped so, at least.

* * *

Towel drying her wet curls, Octavia could barely keep her eyes open as she entered her bedroom from the attached ensuite. It was well into the night, but Octavia had not left Blaise's side since his sparring session-gone-wrong with Draco in the foyer. Her brother hardly required her constant company and fussing over him, but Octavia didn't care.

Even though Blaise was now completely healed, with only an order to stay in bed for twenty-four hours from the healer, Octavia felt that she had to be by his side.

Octavia suspected that she was partly to blame for his beating from Draco, but when she asked, Blaise just laughed her queries off, dismissing them as silly. Regardless, she still suspected that Blaise had been attacked for helping her escape those two years ago. There was really no other possible explanation that entered her mind. She was certain that she was the reason that her brother had been beaten into a state of unconsciousness.

After hours on end, Octavia reluctantly left Blaise's bedroom at the demand of her father, Leonardo ordering that she gets some rest. There was absolutely no substantial reason for her father's demand, as she had nothing planned the following day to require rest. Still under house-arrest, Octavia's days were filled with aimless wanderings around the Manor and the gardens, frequently visiting her pets on the grounds. So why she needed rest, Octavia did not know. Her father was evidently just trying to get rid of her to address the fight directly with Blaise, without her prying ears.

Octavia dropped the damp towel onto the lush carpet, leaving it there for the servants to pick up in the morning. That was a plus at returning home; having someone to clean up after her.

Blonde wet curls stuck to her temples as she strolled over to the window seat, glancing out into the night sky before pulling the shades together. She planned on sleeping in, and would be dammed in the morning sunshine would interrupt her dreams.

A sharp knock rapped against the door to her bedroom, Octavia frowning as she glanced at the clock on the wall. Who on earth would be visiting her chambers at midnight? She assumed that it would be family, so made no move to cover up her modesty as she walked over to the doors.

Her white tank top was blotted with wet patches from the dampness of her tight curls, her black shorts leaving little to the imagination. It was fitness attire, but over the years in the muggle world, Octavia had discovered that it was much more comfortable to wear shorts and a tank top to bed than a silk nightie.

And let's be honest; the only exercise that Octavia indulged in was a jaw work-out as she relayed gossip, and the cardio that came with her shopping sprees.

Pulling open the damaged door, Octavia's brows raised as she was met with the sight of Draco at the threshold. He did not wait for her to scold him for visiting at such an improper hour, nor wait for an invite to enter her boudoir. Draco swiftly scanned her revealing attire with mercurial silver eyes before pushing past the shocked wizard-born and entering her room without permission.

"What the hell are you doing, Draco?" Octavia snapped, her hand still gripping the door-handle.

She watched Draco stroll around her bedroom, his back to her as she remained by the door. He didn't respond as he inspected her belongings, paying particular attention to the collage of moving photographs on the wall behind her purple desk.

"Get out!" Octavia shouted at Draco, his back to her as he observed the moving pictures.

Draco lifted his hand without taking his eyes from the collage, flicking it once and causing the door to slam shut before locking.

There it was. The fear. Trickling through her veins and down her spine like icy water, Octavia's eyes widening as she stood by the locked doors.

"Does my father know you are in my bedroom, Draco?" Octavia asked, her voice shaking slightly as she feigned sternness.

"Yes." Draco clipped formally, raising his hand again, but this time, to beckon her over to him.

She didn't budge.

"My father would never allow a man to come to my bedroom at this hour!" Octavia retorted, her fists clenched by her sides. "Fiancé or not, you are not allowed in here!"

"We have business to discuss," Draco drawled coolly, keeping his back to her as he spoke.

Octavia frowned in annoyance as he raised his hand and seized a photograph from her perfectly constructed collage.

"Hey!" Octavia complained, stomping toward him. "Put that back! Don't touch my stuff!"

Draco arched his brow as the little squib approached, yanking the photograph from his loose grip and attempting to stick it back onto the wall as she leaned up on her tip-toes. He tilted his head as he watched her struggle to replace the photograph, murmurs of indignation uttered by the girl. Draco allowed his silver eyes to move from her wet curls down to her perky little bum, the shorts revealing the bottom of her butt cheeks. His finger twitched, aching to touch the full features, but he didn't succumb to the urge.

Not yet.

He stepped away from the wizard-born as she stuck the photograph back into its rightful place, Draco strolling over to her bedside table instead. Octavia nodded once as she approvingly regarded her neat collage before turning around to Draco. But he wasn't behind her anymore.

"What are you doing?" Octavia whined, running over to him as he picked up her purple diary.

The diary she hadn't wrote a single entry into for over two years.

"Stop it!" Octavia complained, yanking the diary from his grip and placing it back onto the nightstand.

The moment she put the diary back into its original place, Draco had left her side again, in favour of messing with more of her belongings. She almost rolled her eyes at him, finding that he was like a kid in a candy store as he explored her bedroom. Which was an odd thought, for her bedroom wasn't all that interesting.

It was large, lush and filled with expensive furnishings. But it was surely not any more interesting than his own lavish bedroom. His would certainly be grander and richer, given his wealth surpassed hers.

Draco wandered over to her desk, picking up a bizarre ornament and inspecting it curiously. He frowned as he shook it, watching white dots float through the water inside. How peculiar.

"Put that down!" Octavia demanded, her face scrunched up as she scurried over to him.

Octavia snatched the snow globe from his grasp and placed it delicately on her purple table, positioning it with great care.

In all honesty, Octavia was hardly precise about neatness and order, particularly when it came to her own bedroom. She was a messy girl, Pansy referring to her as a 'slobby sloth' continuously throughout their years of escape. Octavia just didn't like anybody touching her things, especially not Draco. They were _hers_ and no one else's.

"What do you need a desk for?" Draco asked curiously, picking up an iPod from the desk and observing it with mild interest.

"To write things on," Octavia scowled, snatching her iPod from his hand. "Important things."

Draco smirked fleetingly, knowing that there was nothing of importance that she would have to write. 'Important' to Octavia was a garment order. Or an escape. The thought caused the smirk to wipe right off his handsome face.

"What are you doing?" Octavia whined, stomping her foot as he walked over to her chest of drawers and began to rummage through them. "Stop touching my stuff."

Perhaps he was searching for clues that may indicate another escape attempt? She didn't know; all she knew was that he was infuriating in that moment. Satisfied with the top-drawer containing only souvenirs and miscellaneous items, Draco moved onto the second drawer.

"No!" Octavia squealed, her face crimson as she sprinted over to him.

Octavia attempted to shove Draco away from her chest of drawers, but he didn't budge in the slightest. It was like shoving a solid brick wall. He only stopped, his brow quirked, as the drawer revealed racy lingerie.

"Happy?" Octavia snapped, shoving the drawer shut harshly. "Pervert."

"Quite," Draco responded teasingly, Octavia raising her brows as she blushed and stared up at him.

"Get out." Octavia demanded firmly, her cheeks flushed.

Draco regarded her for a moment, a glint in his eyes that had her a little unnerved. He hummed before turning and strolling over to the sitting area in the boudoir, removing his cloak and tossing it onto an armchair. Octavia threw her hands up in exasperation, watching with disbelief and annoyance as he beckoned her over to him.

Biting the inside of her cheeks, her expression one of infuriation, Octavia stomped over to him, making a theatrical show of just how annoyed she was. She stopped over a metre away from him, not daring to move within his reach.

"What are you doing here?" Octavia asked, regarding him cautiously.

"I am not here to harm you," Draco drawled, stepping closer to her as she tensed.

"Great," Octavia scoffed. "Let's just take your word for it, yeah? Since you're just so stable and trustworthy."

"Why did you cower?" Draco asked, dismissing her barbed words as he stepped even closer to her.

"What?" Octavia frowned, utterly perplexed.

"In the foyer, when you protected your brother," Draco explained, brushing his knuckled over her cheekbone gently, Octavia's brows shooting up at the softness of his tone. "Why did you cower?"

"Are you kidding?" Octavia breathed incredulously.

"I am not," Draco responded coolly, his hand now cupping her face and thumb brushing against her skin. "You cowered, and I wish to know why."

"Um," Octavia frowned in disbelief. "Do you want me to owl you a list of reasons?"

"Do not sass me, Octavia." Draco warned, his tone icy. "I have asked you a question, and expect an answer."

"Ok," Octavia laughed. "Let's see. You've hexed me … I don't even know how many times. You've shoved me into walls, pushed me over heaps of times, _slapped_ me, spit in face, thrown me into freezing cold bathwater, grabbed my neck, thrown me around like ragdoll, shoved me in a closet with a fucking _boggart_ , and generally just beating the shit out of my brother."

Draco's stormy silver eyes bore into hers, O recognising the malicious glint in his stare. She swallowed.

"You raised your hand to me today, Octavia. You punched, kicked and slapped me." Draco seethed, gripping her chin tightly and forcing her face upwards to align with his. "Yet I did not touch you. Does that not ease your fear?"

"No," Octavia hissed, her lips pushing outwards from his grip on her face. "You're unpredictable and violent. What do you expect, Draco? That I'd all of a sudden not be afraid of you and just love you? That's what this is about, isn't it?"

"If it is?"

"Then you're only deluding yourself." Octavia mumbled through her fish-lips. "I'll never forget what you've done to me, Draco."

"You loved me once," Draco said quietly, his molten eyes searching hers for what he desired. "It cannot be difficult to do so again."

"You're not the same person you were," Octavia frowned, Draco's grip loosening slightly. "You hurt people now, Draco."

"Have I not always been this way?" Draco asked, his brows furrowing as his grip loosened entirely. His fingers remained on her face, but did not press against her skin.

"No."

"No?" Draco smirked. "Was I not this way when I pushed Theodore down the stairs, for touching you? Was I not this way when I shoved Astoria into the pool when she called you a squib? Have I not always been violent, Octavia? You loved me then; I have not changed. I only directed my violence to you, but I am the same person."

Octavia blinked, his words shocking her. For he was correct. He had done those things, and she adored him regardless. She lied for him and took his side whenever the adults confronted them. She hadn't cared back then. Because he never hurt her. It was only others he hurt.

Oh God.

She was a monster. Just like him.

No. No, she wasn't. She saw him now. She saw what he was. What he did to people. To her brother.

"You hurt Blaise. You hurt my brother."

"Blaise initiated it," Draco retorted. "He took you away from me."

"You did that." Octavia countered. "You're the reason I left. Not Blaise. _You_."

Draco clenched his jaw, his silver eyes boiling with anger at her words, the molten fury boring into her wide hazel eyes. But he surprised her.

Draco brushed his fingers over her cheek, trailing them to her wet curls and grabbing a fistful gently. Slowly and carefully, he pulled on the curls, her head leaning back as he pressed his body against hers, staring down at her. Her heartbeat pounded violently, Draco's chest feeling it as their bodies connected. She was still afraid, but he made no move to increase her fear.

"What do you want?" Draco asked softly, his molten eyes staring down at her as their noses touched.

"Freedom." Octavia whispered, her eyes watering as the fear tore at her insides. "I want freedom, Draco."

"I can give you that," Draco said, his eyes searching hers. "I can give you everything you want, so long as you remain by my side."

"That isn't freedom," Octavia frowned.

"It is," Draco whispered, brushing his lips against hers. "If you allow it to be."

"If you trap a bird in a cage, it's not free, Draco. Even if it has its wings, it's not free."

"You are not bird, Octavia." Draco smirked against her plump lips.

"Then what am I?"

"My kitten," Draco answered softly, placing a gentle kiss on her plump pink lips.

She couldn't respond. For the moment her lips parted to speak, his tongue delved into her mouth and she fell victim to the despair.


	7. Chapter 7

The Wizard-Born Muggle Chapter 7

* * *

Laying on her back in the grand purple and silver bed, Octavia gazed vacantly up at the ceiling, her watery eyes void of any happiness or life. Her legs hurt, her core throbbing with overuse and exertion, Draco's fluids still trickling out of her, smeared across her thighs and sheets.

The man himself lay beside her, fast asleep with one muscular arm draped over her bare torso. His face was nuzzled into her wild curls, the blonde hair almost concealing his face entirely. Not that she wanted to look at him anyway.

She would surely succumb to tears if she did.

The sunlight began to seep in the through the gaps of the closed curtains, illuminating the dust particles in the air of her bedroom. She didn't see it. She only subconsciously clicked that it was morning, and that she had to prepare for the day.

The day that would she would spend filled with self-loathing and defeat.

Draco groaned slightly as he began to rouse, his naked body pressed firmly against the side of her bare body, his face burying further into her messy curls. Octavia remained perfectly still, her dazed hazel eyes fixed on the flawless cream ceiling above the four-poster bed. His arm left her body, his hands rubbing over his face as he rolled onto his back. He had seemingly forgotten that she was there, or found her to be rather insignificant in the light of the morning.

She hoped for the former. The latter caused her heart to clench inside of her.

A feeling that she didn't understand.

Draco made to remove the sheets from his body, as though he was about to climb out of the bed, but stopped as he took in his surroundings. Purple, cream and silver everywhere. That's when the memories came flooding back to him and his heart fluttered brilliantly.

Turning to lay on his side, he faced the girl beside him, a smirk tugging at his lips, for he had initially assumed that it was Lavender Brown when he awoke. How wrong he was, and how delightful it was to be wrong.

His stormy grey eyes brewed with the sentiments he harboured for the silent girl beside him, his gaze assessing the dried tears on her crisp cheek. His finger raised and trailed down the path of lost tears from the night prior, as though he wished to wipe them away. It was too late to wipe them away.

They had already been shed, cried, and ignored.

* * *

 _His tongue devoured her mouth, the grip in her hair tightening painfully as his body pushed against hers. In a conflicted daze of lust and despair, Octavia frowned as he kissed her, stumbling back as though attempting to flee. He allowed her to step away, but followed her and denied her escape._

 _Draco's free hand ravished her body desperately. One moment it was on her face, holding onto it as though frightened to ever let go. The next, it was running down the side of her waist, his large hand sneaking underneath her tank top. The feel of his fingers against her the skin of her waist had her core alight with disgust and desire, her knickers dampening as she pushed her hands against his chest. Her body melted against his, her hands pushing him away unsuccessfully._

 _A voice screamed at her through the fog to flee, but her body melted to his touch, her misery feeding off his desperation. His raw hunger. Relishing in his despair; his need to have her heart and soul, but only getting her body._

 _Was she a sadist? For it only increased her arousal to know how much he craved her love, but she wouldn't give it. He didn't deserve it._

 _A gasp escaped her lips, Draco swallowing it greedily as he slammed her against the table, his grip in her hair tightening impossibly. She relished in the pain it brought to her aching scalp; she took the pain as punishment, hating herself for her body's betrayal. For her lust and desire for the cruellest and most despicable man alive._

 _Yet she leaned up on her tip-toes to meet his kiss, returning it just as brutally. Her hands shot up to his face, cupping it firmly and digging her nails into his marble skin. Draco hissed into her mouth at the pain, grinding his erection against her tummy in response._

 _They were both so fucked up._

 _His arm snaked around her waist, hauling her up against him, and she died inside when she willingly wrapped her legs around him. His trapped erection pressed against her soaked core, tears burning at her eyes as his kiss hardened. She wasn't there. She wasn't in her mind; she was in her arousal._

 _Octavia yelped as she was suddenly thrown from his body, her back connecting with the soft mattress of her bed and bounced a little on impact. Before she even knew what was happening, Draco was on top of her, his lips crashing down on hers and his kiss drinking in everything she had. Neither paid any attention to the few tears that trickled down her flushed face, dampening the silk sheets beneath them. They groaned and hissed into each other's mouths as he pushed her further up the bed, following her as he used one hand to tear open his white shirt._

 _Octavia didn't want this. She didn't want this at all. But no words of protest escaped her lips. She wasn't even sure it would matter if she said 'no'. It would likely fall on deaf ears._

 _She couldn't form the words of rejection, anyway. She was lost. In his pain, his lust, his need. His love? If love was raw and brutal, disgusting and terrifying, then yes; lost in his love._

 _The buttons of his shirt flew away from him, a couple whacking Octavia in the tummy, but she didn't feel it. She only felt his tongue battling hers, dominating her with each swirl and flick. Her hands shot up to his shoulders, helping him hurriedly remove the shirt from his body as their kiss continued._

 _Draco pushed himself from her body, sitting on his knees between her spread legs as roughly pulled at her tank-top and yanked it from her body. Her tight blonde curls tousled in the process, both she and Draco hastily removing her shorts and knickers. His muscular chest fell on top of hers, pressing her into the mattress as he buried his face against her neck. His teeth nipped at her skin harshly, Octavia's back arching, her breasts pushing against his chest as she moaned wantonly._

 _Feminine hands shot down between their bodies, Octavia's slender fingers unbuttoning his slacks in a rushed daze, fumbling with the zipper as she used her feet to push down the material of his trousers. He helped her by kicking off the pants, both now completely naked, Octavia a slave to the sensations he was assaulting her with._

 _Images of her brother flashed in her mind, at the most inappropriate moment of her entire life. She frowned as Draco palmed her breasts roughly, the harsh handling sending jolts of pain and pleasure through her body to her wet core. But all she saw was her brother, laying on the floor of the foyer, unconscious and bloodied, Draco standing over him, punching into him mercilessly._

 _No._

 _A long finger slid beneath their bodies, caressing her slick folds as she whimpered, Draco's lips brushing against the smooth skin of her neck._

 _No._

 _The finger, lubricated with her juices, circled her swollen clit, a mewling sound escaping the weeping girl._

 _No._

 _Octavia squirmed beneath Draco's heavy form, her brows furrowing as he positioned the head of his weeping cock at her entrance._

 _No._

 _"Shhh," Draco hushed, pushing the head of his cock against her folds, parting them slowly._

 _No._

 _"It's ok," Draco whispered, Octavia shaking her head and she pushed her hands against his solid chest._

 _It was then that she realised she had been vocalising her rejection of the situation. She had been saying 'no', not thinking it. And he didn't stop._

 _Despite her mind not wanting this, her body reacted to his every touch, and when his lips crashed down on hers, swallowing her protests, her hands gripped into his hair tightly and she wept. Out of pleasure, pain, hatred, despair and the betrayal of her body._

 _Draco groaned as he pushed his long and thick cock further inside of her tight heat, both emitting sounds of pleasure, Octavia's whimpers laced with fear. A shriek escaped her lips, Draco drinking it greedily as he devoured her mouth, his engorged cock plunging inside of her to the hilt._

 _His body tensed impossibly before a shudder ran through him and he groaned from the immense pleasure that crashed down upon him. He didn't hear her whimpers of protest, but only heard the pleasure of her moans as he filled and stretched her entirely. He had been in her before, of course, but it was merely an imitation of her body. Not the real thing._

 _Nothing could have prepared him for the sheer pleasure that assaulted him at being inside of her. Her real body, so smooth and supple, her whimpers so delectable. His delicious little kitten._

 _It took everything he had to not allow his climax to win prematurely, his body tensing and eyes shut tightly as he rested his forehead against hers. His lips found hers, both entering into a fierce kiss damp with the saltiness of the tears she shed. Her hands fisted his hair tightly, almost pulling the strands from his scalp, but the pain only increased his pleasure._

 _Their deep and desperate kiss continued, their tongues battling fiercely as she emitted a soft sob into his mouth, Draco taking all that she offered him. Smooth milky legs wrapped around his waist, her body consenting where her mind did not._

 _Draco hissed at the movement, his cock twitching deep inside of her impossibly tight heat, slick with the juices of her elixir. His lips left hers, kissing a trail down to her neck and settling on that sensitive spot that made her gasp. His tongue twirled and twisted expertly beneath her ear, her hands leaving his hair and gripping the sheets beneath instead._

 _His smooth and toned arse clenched as he pulled out and slammed back into her roughly, hitting that ribbed spot deep inside of her cunt as she mewed. Her wet heat surrounded and engulfed him completely, the twitching and convulsing trying to pull him deeper inside of her. Milking him._

 _"I hate you," she breathed, Draco's heart shredding inside of him as his cock wept inside of her._

 _"I know," Draco whispered, placing a soft kiss on her skin._

 _He proper himself up on his forearms, his molten grey eyes gazing down at her, filled with the last emotion she wished to see there. Unable to look at him, she closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, but Draco didn't allow her to escape. He would never let her escape._

 _Never._

 _He stared down at her with mercurial silver eyes as he slowly slipped out of her, before pushing back in, so softly, so gently._

 _So lovingly._

 _It was a colossal joke. And she was the fucking punchline._

 _His hands moved, slipping beneath her and cupping the back of her head as he placed the most tender kiss on her plump lips, swollen from his touches, wet from her tears. With each long and slow thrust inside of her, her walls began to flutter, her eyelids drooping and eyes glazing over. She gasped and whimpered against his lips, Octavia feeling pleasure that was unknown to her. But, as it always was with Draco, the pleasure was poisoned by despair._

 _It always would be._

 _Draco's cock jerked inside of her, no longer able to pace himself. Her pleasure had increased, her cunt dripping wet and breathing rapid as she danced on the edge of ecstasy._

 _He stilled inside of her, their nerves tingling with excruciating pleasure as he waited for the nearing climaxes to disperse. He was going to show her what a real orgasm was, and make her see that only he could give it to her. Even if her mind didn't want it. Her body needed it._

 _Slowly, he pulled his thick and long cock out of her before thrusting hard into her, his pubic bone slamming against her clit, Draco groaning harshly against her lips. A cry escaped her throat as he buried himself deep inside of her, his teeth biting her bottom lip and pulling at the plump skin with his teeth. Her legs clasped firmly around his hips, Octavia wrapped her arms around him, holding on tight as he fucked her brutally, surely bruising her aching cunt._

 _Her nails clawed at his bare back as he pummelled into her with his engorged cock relentlessly, Octavia seeing stars as she cried out, each thrust filling her completely, hitting that excruciatingly pleasurable spot deep inside of her. Her legs quivered around his hips as his pace became erratic and desperate._

 _Draco growled and groaned against her lips, his brutal thrusts never ceasing to send waves of pleasure through their naked and sweaty bodies._

 _Her toes curled as she squirmed frantically beneath him, a high pitched scream tearing through her throat as her cunt clamped down on him, quivering and trembling around his engorged cock._

 _Sensations of ecstasy flooded their bodies, their orgasms tearing through their every nerve ending, as he slammed into her one last time, their bodies stilling as he roared into her parted lips, emptying his load deep inside of her quivering cunt._

 _She was almost certain he had shouted her name, but she couldn't be sure. Her ears were ringing, her vision blurry as pleasure consumed her, floating in the euphoric abyss he plunged her into, feeling only his cock jerk inside of her._

 _It was only a few moments before he took her to that awful place of pleasure again, drowning her in the abyss of despair and raw need._

 _Making her hate herself more than she had ever hated him._

* * *

The day was initially meant to be empty of duties and activities, allowing Octavia to wallow in self-hatred and self-pity in the solitude of the Zabini Manor. It seemed, however, that Draco was pleased with her, therefore arranging an outing for the girl.

Octavia stood in the centre of Twillfit and Tattings, her mother and Narcissa teetering and tottering around her as they excitedly shopped for the wizard-born on Draco's tab. With each suggestion of silky fabrics and costly gowns, Narcissa and Mediana attempted to pull Octavia out of her numb trance, but to no avail.

Leonardo, Lucius and Draco sat on the sofas by the changing rooms, conversing quietly amongst themselves about Blaise's newly revealed betrayal. Leonardo declared that not much could be done about Blaise's treachery against the families and pureblood ways, deciding that his confrontation with Draco had been sufficient. Blaise had evidently not allowed himself to retaliate in the fight, thereby enduring severe injuries and a healer's order to remain in bed for the following twenty-four hours. The damage had been done, and as had the punishment.

Both Octavia's and Blaise's.

Octavia was certain that her father did not know what would transpire between Draco and Octavia, when he had allowed Draco to go to her at midnight. But she knew that everyone suspected now that they had reconciled their differences, via physical unity. Of course, they were not aware of her verbal protests during the 'unity'.

The worst part of what had transpired, though, was Octavia's enjoyment of it. Her body responded to his touches, his long and deep thrusts consuming her with ecstasy time and time again. She had whimpered his name, chanted her protests like a mantra, pleaded for more, and had come undone for him. It was the biggest kick in the teeth that she had allowed it to occur all over again that morning. She had willingly spread her legs for him, inviting his cock and touches to her body. An offer he had taken without hesitation.

That was the very reason that she was numb. For she hated herself and wanted more. She was numb, for if she allowed herself to feel, she would fall to her knees in emotional agony. All because she wanted it again.

Was it the despair it brought her that had her craving more? The despair punished her, in the ways that he didn't. She needed to be punished. She didn't get to be happy. She allowed him to touch her, after everything he had done. She had given into him.

It was beyond fucked up. She was living a nightmare.

A nightmare she didn't want to wake up from.

Mediana and Narcissa agreed on the unicorn-hair silk fabric, in the loveliest shade of powder pink. They didn't even ask her what she thought of it. She loved it, of course. But they didn't ask her.

Octavia blinked as she watched her mother and Narcissa confer with the shop-owner, discussing alterations and designs of the dresses they wanted. Octavia tilted her head as she observed them, noticing how rudely they both spoke to the shop-owner.

Had she been blind all of these years? Had Narcissa and Mediana always been so rude?

Sighing heavily, Octavia wandered off to the front of the store, pretending to inspect the latest arrival of shoes by the window. For once in her life, she didn't care about the shoes. She didn't care about shopping.

Octavia didn't know what she cared about, if anything at all.

Draco rose from the sofa in the change-rooms, strolling over to Octavia as he observed her coldly. He noticed the slow and lazy way she moved, as though she was half-asleep and wandering. His jaw clenched as she picked up an exquisite stiletto, evidently pretending to inspect it before placing it back down and moving on to the next. He saw the charade. She was not there in that moment.

He felt a pang of pity and regret, but dismissed it quickly.

His cold eyes flickered to the window of the shop, spotting the bushy-haired mudblood in the crowd that scattered Diagon Alley.

Draco placed his hands in his pockets as he strolled over to his fiancé, pulling her out of her reverie as he approached. He pressed a gentle kiss against her temple as she stiffened, before brushing his lips against her earlobe.

"Your mudblood is outside," Draco whispered, Octavia raising her brows and spinning around to face the window.

Her eyes lit up magnificently as she saw Hermione on the street outside, the muggle-born witch hugging Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. It looked as though they were saying goodbyes to one another.

"Go," Draco clipped, Octavia craning her neck and frowning at him over her shoulder.

"I'm not allowed to see her," Octavia frowned, her suspicious eyes meeting his cold stare.

"I am allowing it. You have five minutes." Draco responded coolly, inclining his head to confirm his permission.

Octavia blinked stupidly at him before a slight smile graced her plump and swollen lips, Draco feeling whole inside at the beautiful vision. He had not realised just how much he longed to see her smile until that very moment.

He watched as her smile disappeared and eyes filled with apprehension before she turned and stared out of the window again. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, taking one step toward the door before stopping, as though she was waiting for Draco to laugh and revoke his permission. As though he was taunting her.

Another step. He did not speak.

Through the window, Octavia saw Ron and Harry depart, apparating out of the Alley and leaving Ninny alone in the swarms of people.

Another step. Draco remained silent.

Seemingly satisfied, a burst of life exploded in the girl and she sprinted out of the door, through the crowds of Diagon Alley, right toward the forbidden mudblood. Draco followed her outside, standing by the entrance to Twillfit and Tattings, hands in his pockets as he kept a close eye on his squib.

"Ninny!" Octavia shouted, her heels clacking against the cobblestone ground. "Ninny!"

Hermione spun around, her chocolate eyes wide with shock and relief as she saw her best friend sprinting right toward her.

"O!" Hermione choked out, her eyes filling with tears as she bolted toward the fast-approaching girl.

Their bodies collided harshly, both girls' faces scrunching up as they sobbed, their arms wrapped tightly around one another in a tight embrace. Hermione's face nuzzled into Octavia's shoulder and vice versa, the passers parting as they regarded the scene with fleeting interest before going on about their days. Draco watched the scene coldly from the doors of the fashion boutique, his hands in his pockets as his mind churned and processed. Strategizing on how best to use O's palpable love for the mudblood to his advantage.

"O, I missed you so much," Ninny whispered, her voice cracking as they reluctantly released their holds on one another, their hands connected between them.

Octavia gave her a watery smile, repeating those same words to her in her eyes alone.

"I'm sorry I didn't write to you when I came back," Octavia frowned, evidently consumed with guilt. "I couldn't; father says … He … I'm not allowed my owl, so I couldn't …"

"It's alright," Ninny smiled, squeezing her hands reassuringly. "I know. I read the article in the Prophet when you came back. How did they find you?"

"It doesn't matter," Octavia shook her head before glancing over her shoulder at the aristocratic Draco by the boutique door. "I only have a few minutes, so let's not talk about that. How are _you_? What's been happening?"

Hermione's eyes darted over to Draco, narrowing slightly before she met Octavia's watery gaze.

"Not much," Hermione shrugged. "I've been focusing on my internship and studies, really."

"Is that all?" Octavia raised her brows. "Jesus, Ninny. I've been gone for over two years, and all you have to tell me is that you work?"

Hermione scowled, but looked a little embarrassed at the same time.

"You're a mess without me," Octavia laughed. "Please tell me you've had a _little_ fun at least. Maybe fun with a guy?"

"No boyfriends," Hermione smiled, shaking her head. "I talk to Viktor sometimes … You remember him from the Banquet?"

"Viktor Krum?" Octavia asked with raised brows. "Well … Look at you go!"

Hermione smiled warmly at her friend.

"Just owls though?" Octavia pressed for more gossip. "Has he visited? Maybe you could go to him?"

"I'll be seeing him next weekend. His team are playing against the National English Quidditch Team," Hermione explained, blushing slightly.

"Oh?" Octavia grinned like a Cheshire cat, wiggling her brows suggestively.

"It's not like that," Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "He's taking me out for dinner; that's it."

"Dinner leads to drinks," Octavia winked. "Drinks lead to spooning, and spooning leads to -"

"O!" Hermione laughed, blushing lightly. "Don't be crass."

"God, you sound like my mother," Octavia rolled her eyes, a sweet smile on her lips. "So what else? How's Luna? Do you still talk to her?"

"Yes, of course." Hermione nodded. "She's … Well, I think she is a little upset about the announcement in the Prophet."

"About my engagement?" Octavia frowned.

"About Nott's upcoming marriage to Daphne Greengrass," Hermione explained. "They haven't really seen one another since Hogwarts, except in passing, but I think she still …"

"Yeah," Octavia nodded, understanding instantly. "Poor Luna. She'll find someone though; someone who is _available_."

Hermione nodded, hearing the implications in Octavia's words. The pureblood men weren't available – Blaise included. They would eventually marry their betrotheds, despite caring for others outside of the pureblood society. Their families and duties always came first. It was just their way.

But did that apply to Krum? As far as Hermione knew, he was not engaged. He hardly agreed with the pureblood cultures, however, so it would surprise Hermione if he was engaged to another. She would definitely feel betrayed. Not as betrayed and hurt by Blaise's choices and distance over the past three years, but enough that she may shed a tear or two.

"Your guard dog is coming," Hermione sighed, watching as Draco pushed himself from the wall and strode toward them.

"Time's up," Octavia pouted, glancing over her shoulder to her nearing fiancé. "I'll try and find a way to contact you, I promise. Right now it's too hard though. I'm being watched like a hawk! Honestly, my father hasn't even returned my owl yet, and they don't really want me to … talk to you."

"Why not?" Hermione raised her brows, feeling a sting of hurt.

"They think that you put silly ideas in my head," Octavia murmured, shrugging lightly. "Same with Pansy, though. I'm not allowed to see her yet, but it'll blow over. I've not been back for long, so they'll chill out soon. I hope."

"Oh," Hermione nodded, a crease forming at her brow. "Well … I hope to hear from you soon."

Octavia forced a reassuring smile, neither girl truly believing that their relationship would be permitted anytime soon. But they said nothing of it, for they had no words to speak, and Draco was nearing within ear-shot.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Octavia closed the distance between her and her muggle-born friend, pulling her into a tight embrace. The girls held one another close, neither speaking as their embrace said everything. About how they missed each other dearly, loved one another and craved the restoration of their bond.

Not knowing that it would be stronger than it ever had been before, and in a matter of days, they would be reunited once more.

The large hand that gripped Octavia's arm alerted the wizard-born to the arrival of her fiancé, both girls reluctantly letting go of one another. They gave each other weak smiles before Octavia allowed Draco to lead her away from Hermione, back toward the boutique.

A little bounce in her step that hadn't been there before.

* * *

Octavia crossed her ankles, her creamy legs revealed by the relatively short hem of her newly purchased dress, thanks to Draco's tab at Twillfit and Tattings. Octavia had ensured to make the shopping spree one of her most expensive yet. Despite his permission for Octavia to go to Ninny that day, she still sought vengeance in any way she could acquire it. On that day, her only means of displaying her hatred of him was by racking up an insanely high bill at the expensive boutique.

Not that it mattered, anyway. For Octavia could probably shop to that extreme every day for the rest of her life, and still not make the slightest impact on his wealth. Regardless, she took a smidgen of pleasure from her tiny show of defiance.

Draco draped his arm over the back of her chair as they sat in the outdoor area of Rosie's Teabags casual dining establishment. As they were officially engaged, Draco sat beside Octavia at the circular outdoor table, waiting for their ordered beverages and desserts with the others. Mediana and Narcissa babbled on relentlessly about the upcoming nuptials in pureblood society, particularly the nearing unity of Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott's. The ceremony was to take place in little more than three weeks, and the women used the opportunity to gossip about the location; Spain.

Octavia barely participated in her favourite past-time of gossiping, choosing to sit quietly at the circular table, stiffening slightly as Draco's fingers brushed over her bare shoulder. Her feet sported brand new stilettoes from Twillfits and Tattings, the strappy black heels flattering the whiteness of her dress. Draco frequently glanced down at her legs, his cold gaze drinking in the smooth skin as he recalled his ministrations the night prior. He noticed that the signs of their activities were no longer evident on her flawless skin, the squib having evidently had her house-elf heal the bite marks and bruises of passion.

Octavia sighed in relief as the waitress approached, carrying a tray of beverages. It wasn't until she neared the table that Octavia realised the identity of the girl: Lavender Brown. Octavia fleetingly recalled that Lavender's mother, Rosie, was the owner of the little teashop. The Gryffindor girl placed the tray on the table and began to set the ordered drinks in front of the respective persons. Octavia didn't greet the girl, as they hadn't exactly been on cordial terms at Hogwarts, but she inclined her head in a polite gesture of thanks as Lavender placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of her.

It wasn't until Lavender slammed Draco's mug down in front of him that Octavia arched her brow curiously, the waitress gaining the attention of all the table's occupants. Lavender spared one intense glower at Octavia before scowling at Draco. Octavia's eyes moved between the stoic Draco and furious Lavender as the girl snatched up the empty tray and stormed off, back inside the teashop.

"What the hell was that about?" Octavia frowned, her gaze darting between the occupants of the table.

Narcissa thinned her lips disapprovingly, her blue eyes on the perfectly composed Draco.

"Jealousy, dear." Narcissa answered O, but her gaze was on Draco as he reclined in his chair.

Draco's fingertips continued to brush over Octavia's bare shoulder gently, the wizard-born scowling at him as she realised. Lavender definitely still carried a flame for Draco since Hogwarts, and O didn't doubt that he entertained her affections whilst O was on the run.

"Here," Octavia clipped, pushing her mug of black coffee toward Draco. "She probably spat in it or something."

Draco inclined his head, the wizard-born only partially pacified as the scowl remained on her face. He waved his hand toward his steaming mug of black coffee, using wandless magic to determine if the beverage had been tampered with. It hadn't. It mattered naught, though, for Octavia had already stolen his cup of coffee and was already sipping the hot liquid, not interested in having the original back. Draco smirked, clasping his hand around the mug in front of him, his other hand resting on Octavia's bare shoulder.

Narcissa and Mediana smiled as Draco said not a word about Octavia's spoilt and presumptuous behaviour, finding it rather sweet that he indulged her. They remained quiet as Lavender returned to the table with a tray of their requested desserts, placing them in front of their respective persons before storming off again, leaving a rather awkward atmosphere behind.

Octavia hardly needed to be the most perceptive person in the world to recognise a woman scorned when she saw one. She felt no pity, though. For Lavender should have known better than to pine after Draco Malfoy. A man whose first priority was pureblood traditions and duties; not frolicking around with a tainted-blood.

While tainted-bloods, much like half-bloods, were tolerated by most belonging to pureblood society, they were still segregated and would never be accepted into their world. Even if their blood purity percentage sat at 99%, they would not be entertained as prospective brides, for that 1% tainted them.

Lavender was foolish to allow herself hope for the impossible. Much like Octavia had been when she had escaped over two years ago.

Octavia shot a side-glance at Draco's dessert, scowling slightly as she found that she preferred his over her own sticky-date pudding. Her lips pursed together as she watched him cut his strawberry mudcake in half with the small knife, her mouth salivating as the pink juices of pureed strawberries spilled out of the cake. Draco turned his attention to Octavia, arching his brow as she practically drooled over his dessert, ignoring her own.

This was hardly strange behaviour for O. She always wanted what Draco had, whether it be his dinner or dessert whenever they dined together. He clutched her plate and pulled it next to his, using the fork and knife to lift half of the strawberry mudcake and place it onto her place. Octavia beamed as she snatched her plate away from him, settling it in front of her before digging in. She didn't bother offering him half of her sticky-date pudding in return; she wanted that entire cake too. She wasn't one for sharing.

In her content state, originating from Draco's permission for her to interact with Hermione and providing her with clothes and his dessert, Octavia tucked into her food with a smile on her face. Completely oblivious to Draco's fingers playing with her tight blonde curls, his fingers twisting and entwining with the luscious locks.

The women smiled softly at the apparent closeness of Draco and Octavia, deciding that now was the opportune time to discuss the inevitable; marriage arrangements.

"I would like to organise a date that suits you, Octavia." Narcissa began, using her small fork to pick off the grated coconut from her dessert dish.

"For?" Octavia asked, picking up her mug of black coffee.

"We need to begin our search for the perfect wedding gown, of course." Narcissa explained with a smile.

The woman was evidently pleased to assist Octavia in finding a gown, her glee only matched by Mediana's.

"Oh," Octavia nodded, placing her mug on the table as she pursed her lips. "Perhaps Milan would be the best place to start?"

"I believe that Paris is the front-runner for bridal fashion this year," Mediana drawled, Leonardo's free hand placed on her thigh. "It would be best to begin our search there, wouldn't you agree dear?"

"Of course," Octavia nodded, feeling out of the loop.

O had always been up to date on the fashion capitals ladder. Since her escape, however, she found that her knowledge was lacking, and was certainly less than pleased about it.

"Splendid," Narcissa smiled. "I shall sort the arrangements. A week will be sufficient, yes?"

Octavia nodded, picking at her two desserts with less vigour than before. Even though she was attending the fashion shows with the women, ultimately the final decision rested with the men. Her father's approval, and that of her fiancé's, would be required on the gown of her choosing, the men deciding on its appropriateness.

It hardly mattered, though. Octavia had brilliant taste in gowns of all sorts, and was certain that her choice would be approved by both Draco and her father.

"There is the matter of the guest list," Narcissa continued.

"Yes?" Octavia asked, meeting the woman's apprehensive stare.

Narcissa and Mediana shared a look before her mother smiled warmly at Octavia

"As the ceremony and reception will be of a high profile," Mediana explained delicately, "the guest list will need to be handled accordingly."

"Uh huh," Octavia nodded, frowning slightly as she struggled to grasp the hints.

"While you adore your muggle-born friend, it may not be fitting to invite her to the wedding, dear." Mediana stated softly.

Octavia's brows shot up as she blinked stupidly at her mother. Were they really telling her that Hermione couldn't attend the wedding? Were the restrictions they have placed on her that severe?

"I don't see why her presence at the ceremony would be an issue," Octavia stated tartly.

Narcissa explained. "Miss Granger has attended the Pureblood Banquet, for reasons I am still unable to comprehend, but she made somewhat of a spectacle. Her confrontation with Blaise was noticed by some, and the rumours remain regarding the true nature of their relationship. Preposterous, of course, yet it would be wise to prevent further stirring of those nasty rumours."

"So you're not inviting her because people talk?" Octavia scoffed. "That's all we do. We talk and gossip. If Hermione doesn't come, they'll find something else to talk about. It doesn't matter; gossip will happen either way."

"Again," Mediana stated firmly. "The matter of her blood status remains. It is against the traditions to invite a person with less than 'half' blood purity, dear."

"So you all of a sudden care about blood?" Octavia snapped at her mother.

The Zabinis had never actively demonstrated prejudices against blood that was less than 100% pure, other than when it came to marriages. But that was a matter of preserving the bloodlines, traditions and ancestry. Right?

Octavia fleetingly recalled several incidents where others had implied her parents' participation in Death Eater ranks and activities. A frown creased at her brow as she glanced between her mother and father, as though seeing them for the first time. Her father remained cool and composed, not disagreeing with her mother's delicate demands.

Turning her head to face Draco, Octavia looked up at him with contemplative hazel eyes, Draco meeting her gaze. He merely stared at her, not making any move to support her disagreement with her parents. She felt a little hurt at his lack of support.

"I don't think that's fair," Octavia clipped, returning her stare to her mother. "I'm not ok with that in the slightest. It's racist and wrong."

"It is not a choice," Mediana stated firmly. "It has been decided, dear."

Octavia nodded once, the tightness of her lips indicating the extremity of her displeasure. She was fucking furious. But it was done, as her mother had said. It was final.

Everyone seated at that table would have input on the guest list, except her. She would be left out and dismissed as she always was. Even when it came to her own fucking wedding.

Some things never changed.

* * *

 _Octavia giggled as Theodore chased her with a magically conjured butterfly trapped in his cupped hand, the both of them running through the lush manor gardens. Draco stood with the adults on the patio that attached to the sunroom, looking out onto the gardens as all the children played, celebrating Draco's ninth birthday. His brows furrowed as he watched Theo chase Octavia, silver eyes storming as the girl giggled for him._

 _Draco didn't truly understand the unpleasant feelings that stirred within him as he watched the interaction, but he mused that it felt similar to when another touched his broomsticks without his permission. It was a fierce feeling that brewed anger within him, his fists clenching at his sides. He knew what he was going to do in order to soothe the anger and need for retaliation. He just had to wait until they were away from the adults._

 _As though the Gods had learned of his scheme, providing him with the required opportunity, Octavia ran up the stone stairs of the garden and shrieked as she ran into the manor. Theodore followed her, running speedily as he chased her with the butterfly. Draco scowled as he slipped away from the adults, following the pair into his grand home, listening for the sweet sounds of Octavia's giggles to ascertain their location within the mansion._

 _Following the sounds of her splendid shrieks and giggles, Draco swiftly strode the foyer of his manor and took the stairs two steps at a time to meet the duo at the top. His rage increased and took over completely as he saw that they were holding hands and standing much too close. Of course, Theo had always fancied Octavia too, but Draco was certain that no one would dare touch her. She was_ _ **his**_ _. Didn't everyone know that?_

 _"Draco!" Octavia squealed with glee, Theodore standing beside, hand-in-hand._

 _Draco remained perfectly still and tense as he arrived at the top of the staircase, the blonde beauty throwing her arms around his neck. Draco remained stiff as she hugged him, his fury preventing him from returning the embrace in the slightest. He remained silent and still until she hesitantly released her hold on him, her pretty face tilted to the side as she regarded him curiously._

 _"What's the matter?" Octavia asked, blinking innocently as she gazed up at him._

 _He didn't even look at her. His murderous grey eyes were fixed on an indifferent-looking Theo as they stood at the top of the staircase._

 _"Don't touch her," Draco snarled, Theo narrowing his eyes in response._

 _"We were only holding hands, silly." Octavia giggled, stopping abruptly as Draco turned his fierce stare to her._

 _"I said don't do it!" Draco shouted at her, causing her eyes to widen and tears to run down her cheeks. "I'm older! I said no!"_

 _Octavia's face scrunched up, the snivelling girl pulling at the hem of her summer dress anxiously as her breathing hitched, threatening to turn into a sobbing tantrum._

 _"We can do what we want Draco," Theodore scowled, making a point of grabbing Octavia's hand and yanking her toward him as sniffled and snivelled. "You're only older than me by three months, and Octavia will be nine in ten months."_

 _Draco saw red._

 _He yanked Octavia away from Theo, the girl tumbling over and falling to her knees as Draco released his hold on her. His murderous silver eyes glowed with raw fury as he shoved Theodore harshly, the boy inhaling sharply as he attempted to regain his balance unsuccessfully. Theodore screamed as he fell over, tumbling down the marble stairs of the foyer, each collision echoing horrid crunches and thuds throughout the grand space._

 _Draco watched the tumble until Theodore landed at the bottom of the staircase, only his groans suggesting that he survived the brutal fall. Swiftly, Draco turned to the snivelling girl on the ground, dropping to his knees in front of her and cupping her blotchy face in his hands._

 _"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, wiping away her tears. "I didn't mean for you to fall."_

 _"You pushed Theo," Octavia whined, her hazel eyes brimming with tears as she held her sore knee to her chest. "You made my leg hurt and yelled at me."_

 _Draco moved his hands to her bare knee, holding it firmly as he placed a soft kiss on the reddened area. She smiled weakly, Draco noticing as he looked at her from beneath his lashes, and repeated the action._

 _Octavia's weak smile strengthened as Draco showered her sore knee with chaste kisses. He smiled against her skin as he looked up at her, placing one final kiss on her reddened knee._

 _Octavia smiled as Draco straightened himself, that familiar smirk on his face, telling her exactly what was coming. A squeal escaped her lips as Draco lunged at her, tackling her gently to the ground and tickling her sides as she giggled and yelped._

 _"Say it," Draco grinned, the girl squirming on the floor as he tortured her with tickles._

 _"Stop it!" Octavia shrieked through her brilliant bells of laughter, kicking out at him to no avail. "Stop!"_

 _"Say it!" Draco grinned, tickling underneath her armpits. "I'll stop if you say it!"_

 _"Ok, ok, ok!" Octavia screeched, rolling onto her tummy as she tried to not wet herself. Mother would be furious if she wet herself. "You're my favourite! You're my favourite!"_

 _Satisfied, Draco ceased his playful assaults and moved to lay beside her on the floor. Octavia lay on her belly, her cheek resting against the cool marble ground as she smiled at Draco, the blonde birthday boy laying on his back and head turned to the side to face her._

 _"You're my favourite too," Draco smiled, his fingers brushing against hers before they entwined together._

 _A shriek ripped through the foyer and corridor air, evidently belonging to one of the women. It was only moments after that hurried footsteps and panicked voices interrupted their private moment, the adults having found a groaning Theo at the bottom of the steps._

 _"You're going to get in so much trouble," Octavia teased, laying still as someone came storming up the steps._

 _Draco just smirked, his grey eyes twinkling with malice. They both knew that Draco wouldn't get in trouble. For they both knew that Octavia would agree to whatever story his crafty mind came up with and she would lie for him through the interrogations. No matter what, she wouldn't tell on Draco._

 _He was her favourite._


	8. Chapter 8

The Wizard Born Muggle Chapter 8

* * *

Hermione clutched the stack of folders against her chest as she jogged through the foyer of the Ministry of Magic, headed right toward the pureblood Italian strolling toward the aisles of fireplaces. She had to be quick and catch up to him before he disappeared through the green flames, for the opportunity was too good to pass up. He was on the Board for the Ministry of Magic's law department, and given the conflicted nature of their previous relationship, he may just hear her out.

"Blaise!" Hermione shouted, running through the crowds of people in the foyer. "Blaise, wait!"

Blaise Zabini stopped in his tracks, turning around with his brow quirked as he spotted Hermione Granger rushing toward him. His dark eyes scanned over her messy appearance, taking in the bushiness of her curls, the weariness of her brown eyes and the skinniness of her body. It was evident that she had lost weight since their time at Hogwarts, and he didn't doubt that it was due to the chaos and stress of her internship at the Ministry.

"Granger," Blaise greeted formally as she approached. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hermione shifted the heavy weight of the folders to her left arm, using her right hand to shuffle through the documents before pulling out a red piece of parchment. Red. Blaise instantly knew that it was a declined law proposal. He probably rejected it himself at the Board meetings.

Flicking her bushy curls out of her weary face, Hermione handed Blaise the piece of parchment, her hooded eyes gazing at him hopefully. Blaise extended his hand and took the Act proposal from her ink-stained fingers, his dark eyes scanning it swiftly.

"The 'House-Elf Equality Act'," Blaise drawled tediously, meeting her hopeful gaze. "And you are presenting this to me, why?"

"It was rejected," Hermione sighed, dark circles bordering her eyes. "Last week, by the Board."

"I am aware," Blaise stated with palpable boredom, handing the parchment back to her. She didn't take it.

"Why?" Hermione asked, evidently perplexed. "You're on the Board, so you can at least tell me why."

"Why?" Blaise repeated, smirking at her naivety. "Are you really uncertain as to the reason for the denial of this proposal, Granger?"

"I don't understand," Hermione snapped. "How can it be rejected? It's not a freedom Act, it's only about their rights."

"House-elves do not have rights," Blaise quirked his brow.

"Because there are no laws to grant them what they deserve," Hermione retorted. "No creature should be _owned_ , Blaise. It's the first step of equality in the Wizarding World. They need to be paid for their work and no longer be treated or viewed as slaves."

"An ambitious opinion, but one that many do not share." Blaise drawled, still holding the red parchment in his tanned hand. "It was rejected, Granger. Move on."

"Can't you at least get them to reconsider the Act?"

"I do not believe in the Act," Blaise smirked. "Suffice it to say that I will not assist you."

"You don't believe in it?" Hermione raised her brows. "It's a small salary and a few days off a year. It's not like you'll lose your precious servants."

"It's a salary and vacation days at this point in time," Blaise responded coolly. "But what will that start? In a few years to come, it will be complete equality, votes and all."

"And you don't think they deserve that?" Hermione asked. "They are beings. They deserve their freedom, and the right to participate in the world to which they belong. They work twenty-four hours a day, every day of their lives. And you don't believe in giving them a break every once in a while with few sickles thrown in?"

"My advice to you," Blaise drawled, placing the parchment atop her pile of folders, "is to focus your attentions on a smaller goal; a realistic objective. One that will not deter you in your career before it has even begun. Build your career first, forge connections within the Ministry, before you re-visit this Act."

Hermione pursed her lips in displeasure as she clutched the folders against her chest.

"So you're not going to help me, then." Hermione stated.

"Your name has already come up in the Board meetings," Blaise informed. "I have assisted you more than you know. If it weren't for me, there would be no future for you at the Ministry. If it weren't for me, your internship would have already been terminated, Granger. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I did this on my own," Hermione hissed. "I am here and have built a professional career and future at the Ministry, because I worked my ass off. I eat, sleep and live here. This is my home away from home, so don't you dare tell me that I didn't do this on my own. My hard work is the only reason that I'm here, right now."

"You have made many powerful enemies on the way," Blaise countered. "Tread lightly for the remainder of your internship, Granger. There is only so much I can do without tainting my own name in the process; and that is one thing I will not sacrifice for you, Granger. My name will not be tarnished due to you and silly your pride."

Blaise stepped toward her, their faces nearing as the memories of their kisses flashed in her mind incessantly.

"You may have a powerful ally in me, Granger," Blaise stated in a low tone, sending shivers down her spine and to her core, "but it may not be enough to keep your career afloat. Keep your ideas to yourself until you have guaranteed employment here. Then, by all means, make as many enemies as you please. But never underestimate the value of caution."

Hermione frowned as he turned and strode away, his robes billowing behind him as he disappeared into the crowd.

A part of her wanted to prove him so very wrong, but she knew there was truth in what he claimed. There were people interfering with the progress of her career, but the identities of whom, she did not know. She only knew that she was the only intern to not be offered a position following their graduation.

Hermione had a habit of making enemies in her quests for creature equalities. But she hadn't realised just how many she had made, and that Blaise Zabini was essentially her only ally in the political world. An ally she didn't know she had, that supported her from the shadows, causing her heart to swell and flutter within her chest.

* * *

Octavia smiled and waved as her parents stepped into the fireplace and were swallowed up by the green flames. The very moment they had departed the manor to shop on Knockturn Alley, Octavia turned and sprinted up the staircase, her bare feet colliding harshly with the cold marble step. Since she and her parents had visited Diagon Alley with the Malfoys three days ago, Octavia had waited impatiently for the manor to clear of its residents. Finally, she was alone in the mansion. Except from the servants and house-elves of course.

She bolted up the stairs and through the corridors, estimating that she had an hour at least before anyone returned home. Her curls were tied into a bun atop her head, her slender body adorned by casual fitness attire, despite Octavia having no intentions of exercising that day. She merely wore the garments to allow her body comfort in her leisurely activities around the house.

The house-arrest was becoming quite bothersome indeed, Octavia finding it more and more difficult to keep herself occupied by the day. But not that day. No. Octavia had a quest to keep her boredom at bay. A quest that brought her sensations of guilt and great unease as she raced through the corridors to her father's private library.

Following the outing with the Malfoys to Diagon Alley, Octavia had found it rather difficult to ignore the gnawing doubt in her mind. The fact that her parents had used Hermione's blood status to refuse her invite to the wedding between O and Draco just didn't sit right with her. Their reasoning had contradicted everything she was brought up to believe. That blood status didn't matter; only power, ancestry and politics mattered.

Over the days that had followed the outing, Octavia began to recall pieces of information from the years of her short life. The implied accusations of her parents' participation in the Wizarding War, and the general belief that her parents were once Death Eaters.

Octavia knew a lot more about the Dark Lord now than she did back at Hogwarts. In those years at Hogwarts, Octavia's knowledge of the Dark Lord was rather limited at best, and she had always felt that she knew not what others did. But now she knew enough to understand that many believed her parents to be guilty in the ranks of the Death Eaters. Something that she had not paid much mind to before.

Before now, that is.

Octavia quickly burst through the door to her father's private library. The room had always been off-limits to herself and her brother, since as far back as O could remember. There had never been a single instance in her life that she had even considered entering the restricted room, until now. Closing the door behind her, Octavia shuffled over to the endless aisles of bookshelves, her wide hazel eyes darting around the massive room apprehensively.

With determination and purpose, Octavia raised her chin slightly as she scurried through the maze of aisles, her eyes straining in the dim light to read the plaques that hovered above the small passageways between the shelves. She passed countless hordes of literature, most dedicated to the Dark Arts and illegal curses. While those would be interesting to Octavia on a regular day, it wasn't in that moment. For, in that moment, Octavia was not in her father's forbidden library for a bit of light reading. No. She was there to sneak around and discover the truth about her family once and for all.

Aisle after aisle, minute after minute, Octavia wandered around the labyrinth of literature, beginning to panic as time ticked by. Checking her watch, she ascertained that the manor would be void of any other Zabinis for at least another forty minutes or so. Enough time for her to carry out her plan, but not enough to supress the unease and anxiety within her.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was only twenty minutes, Octavia reached the depths of the library and discovered what she was searching for. An aisle dedicated to 'The Dark Lord'. Octavia thought that the inscription on the plaque was a little peculiar; she personally would have titled it 'The Wizarding War' or something along those lines.

Shrugging the thought off, Octavia entered the dark aisle, her bright eyes filled with apprehension as she scanned the spines of the books, waiting for one to catch her attention. Perhaps a title with a peculiar name, or a book with an overly creased and worn spine? Anything that made a book stand out from the rest.

Ten minutes of searching and Octavia had noticed a rather large and heavy tome on the top shelf. It also happened to be the only book on the shelf without dusk collecting on it. ' _The Fraternity and Sorority of Death Eaters._ '

Leaning up on her tippy-toes, Octavia stretched her body as she frowned in concentration, grunting as she attempted to reach the large book. After a few moments of no success, Octavia jumped several times and snatched at the dustless book. On her fifth try, the book fell off the shelf and landed on the carpeted ground with a heavy thud.

Glancing around briefly, Octavia dropped to her bottom on the carpet, crossing her legs and pulling the tome toward her. It was at times like these that the sneaky Slytherin within her was an appreciated advantage. Although, she better not self-praise prematurely; she still had to get out of this without being caught.

Wasting not a second, Octavia opened the solid cover of the book and scanned the list of contents on the front page. Nothing of interest caught her attention, so she flicked through every page swiftly, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

A bunch of information about the bond between Death Eaters was crammed into the old crisp pages of the tome, Octavia not interested in the content whatsoever. It was boring. It only spoke of the changes within their bonds from during the war to after their defeat. It listed who had snitched on the others during the trials, who had paid bribes to free their comrades, and who had claimed to be under the imperius curse. The problem was, however, that the names used were all coded. Aliases, she suspected.

It would make sense for the tome to be coded with aliases, rather than the real names of the despicable Death Eaters. For it was possible that the tome could fall into the wrong hands, and that was never more clear than in that very moment.

Octavia whacked a loose curl from her face as she continued to delve through the book at a hurried pace, her eyes scanning the pages quickly before moving on to the next.

Hazel eyes widened and lips parted as Octavia whipped over the page, and was met with a moving photograph tucked neatly in the crease of where the pages met. Slowly, her hands picked up the picture and brought it closer to her face as her eyes assessed it intently. Faces that she knew all too well stared back at her coolly, some allowing small smiles to twist at their lips, and others remaining perfectly stoic and indifferent.

It was a photograph of several Death Eaters, all clad in their robes but some without masks. Tears welled up in her eyes as her gaze fixed on the two pairs that were front and centre of the group.

The Zabinis and the Malfoys.

All four of the friends unmasked, Narcissa and Mediana smiling as they held the hands of their stoic husbands—they were Death Eaters.

* * *

Tears streamed down her blotchy cheeks as she sniffed and snivelled, wiping the salty liquid from her face with the back of her hand. Octavia grasped onto the photograph of Death Eaters tightly, scurrying through the South Wing of the manor with only fifteen minutes to spare. She had only just discovered the photograph in her father's private library, recognising the background to belong to that of her father's unused parlour room. The parlour room in the South Wing was essentially abandoned now, only used to store dark artefacts and heirlooms. Or that's what she was told, at least.

Octavia didn't know what to believe anymore. She didn't even know her parents, it seemed. They had lied to her face repeatedly throughout her life, and concealed a twisted and gruesome past from her. She had no idea who they were.

Her mother … Her sweet and loving mother; a monster. No Death Eater could claim innocence. They were murderers and bigoted creatures, destroying muggles in an attempt to appease their bloodlust and racism. Their false sense of superiority controlled them, and led them into lives for the wicked and deranged. So to learn that your parents were two of those monsters, was a heart-breaking discovery indeed.

But Octavia did not have time to cry over it. She would do that later. She had to control her emotions in that moment and continue. She had to know the whole truth.

So Octavia scurried through the corridors of the forbidden South Wing, making her way swiftly toward the parlour room in the picture. She knew where it was located from memory, having hidden in the room during a game of hide-and-seek with Draco many years ago. Her father had found her after she successfully hid for hours on end, and to say that he was displeased would be an understatement. His fury had reduced her to child-like sobs and fits of despair, and he only relented in his verbal assaults once her mother had stepped in.

Mediana had insisted that Octavia was only a child and did not know any better. That she had merely gotten carried away in a game, and decided it best to hide in the place where no one would find her; the forbidden wing of the mansion. Her mother's reasoning was correct, of course, but now Octavia knew the true cause for her father's fury that day; he was hiding something in that room. If that day wasn't enough to prove it, the background of the photograph was.

The parlour room was not only housing dark artefacts. But she couldn't begin to even ponder the true secrets that the room possessed. She did, however, intend to find out.

Of course, Octavia knew that the parlour room was warded against unpermitted persons from entering after she had hidden inside as a child. This was the very reason that she stopped at the wooden door, lined and decorated with metal sheets.

"Pinky," Octavia summoned, the house-elf apparating into the corridor instantly.

Pinky bowed deeply in a gesture of greeting, but Octavia didn't even glance at the uneasy house-elf.

"Take down the wards." Octavia ordered, her watery eyes remaining on the foreboding door in front of her.

"Mistress?" Pinky whispered, her eyes wide with trepidation. "This is Lord Zabini's room, Mistress. No one's is alloweds in there."

"Take down the wards!" Octavia snapped at the elf, Pinky wincing at the unusual outburst. "You might not be my elf anymore, Pinky, but as your Mistress, I order you to do as I say. Unless father has specifically stated otherwise, I command you to take them down!"

The house-elf nodded quickly, her glassy eyes wide with terror as she trembled. Octavia felt a pang of pity and regret amidst the heartache but didn't pay it any mind. She was a dangerously tight schedule.

"Hurry up," Octavia whispered, glancing around the vacant and dark corridor anxiously. As though her father would pop out of an alcove at any moment.

Octavia's eyes darted around the quiet corridor, her hands twisting the photograph tightly as Pinky removed the wards one by one. Glancing at her watch, she assessed that the hour would be up in little more than five minutes. She just hoped that the rest of the Zabinis stayed out longer than her estimated hour.

"Theres, Mistress." Pinky whispered, her voice thick with tears as the door clicked and opened.

"Come with me," Octavia ordered, stepping into the dark room.

She didn't need Pinky to stay with her for a sense of security – although it did help to not be alone. Octavia ensured that Pinky remained by her side as she was now her father's elf, and she couldn't risk her father asking Pinky of her whereabouts.

Due to the time limit Octavia was working with, she scurried through the room at a hurried pace, Pinky illuminating the parlour with balls of light that followed the wizard-born. Octavia rushed over to the lines of shelves straight away, not even bothering to explore the sitting area in the room. The shelves were occupied with a variety of heirlooms and peculiar objects, but Octavia dismissed them as she searched through the items.

Octavia didn't know what she was searching for, though. The photograph confirmed her parents' pasts as Death Eaters, along with the matriarch and patriarch of the Malfoy family. Wasn't that enough? No. It wasn't. Something inside of her begged to discover more. The lies went deeper than the photographs; she just knew it. In her soul, her heart, her bones.

Octavia knew that there were more lies to untangle.

The house-elf tottered beside her as she hurriedly roamed through the lines of shelves, Pinky occasionally whimpering and murmuring to herself. Octavia knew instantly that Pinky was aware of something that Octavia wasn't.

Octavia stopped dead in her tracks, her watery hazel eyes wide with shock and unease as she stood in front of a dusted shelf. A small gold plaque was plated onto the ledge of the shelf, the inscription catching O's attention instantly.

' _Octavia._ '

The shelf with her name on it only stored one item. Only one. A phial.

The small phial was not something Octavia had seen many times in her life, but enough to know what it was instantly. A memory. The silvery vapour in the phial slithered and shone seductively, Octavia grasping her shaky fingers around it and removing it from the shelf.

"Come on," Octavia whispered, her voice cracking as she ordered Pinky to follow her.

Octavia sprinted through the shelves, making her way over to the desk of the parlour room. She ran passed the desk and over to the corner of the room where a grey stone basin resided, covered in dust and evidently unused for quite some time.

Wasting not a moment, Octavia uncorked the phial and tipped the vapour into the stone basin, watching as it slithered around in a still watery substance. Pinky was outright sobbing now, standing beside Octavia as they faced the penseive with the memory inside.

Inhaling deeply, despite not having to hold her breath, Octavia gripped the sides of the stone penseive and dived her head into the watery substance.

The memory.

* * *

Octavia stood in a muggle street, the houses clouded with foggy memory, people running out of their burning homes onto the street before being attacked by the cloaked and masked figures. Death Eaters. Some were clear in the memory, but others were fogged in the hazy daze like the houses that surrounded them. The scene behind her began to disperse, causing Octavia to step further down the street, following a handful of Death Eaters as they walked through the chaos beneath the stormy night sky.

Two Death Eaters veered off to the left, the force of the memory pushing Octavia toward them, the wizard-born falling into step behind the two men. She could tell that they were men by the build of their tall figures beneath the black robes that adorned them, concealing their identities.

One of the Death Eaters opened an iron fence to an untouched house, the two of them walking up the small path to the front door, Octavia right on their heels. She tried to glance around at the chaos around her, but the memory was unclear, therefore the scene was. All she knew was that muggles were being attacked, by the sounds of their pleas and screams.

Tears welled up in her eyes and fell down her soft cheeks as she followed the two men into the house, the door shutting and locking behind her. Her eyes widened as a muggle man came running down the stairs of the humble home, carrying a shotgun with him as he faltered upon seeing the cloaked figures. Octavia watched as he snapped into his senses and cocked the gun, aiming it at the man at the foot of the staircase. Before he could fire the gun, however, the man in front of Octavia waved his gloved hand, the muggle's neck twisting as he screamed in agony. As it twisted, the bones in his neck snapped until his lifeless body tumbled down the stairs.

Octavia screamed wretchedly, her hands slamming over her eyes as she sobbed and shrieked. A shout escaped her between sobs at the sound of the gun firing, evidently triggered during the dead man's fall. Octavia slowly lowered her blood-shot eyes gazing at the corpse at the bottom of the steps, one of the Death Eaters stepping over him as though he was little more than a bothersome puddle.

"I'll check upstairs," a familiar drawl stated, coming from the Death Eater at the staircase.

Octavia's teary eyes widened as she recognised the voice belonging to Lucius Malfoy.

The man ascended the stairs, Octavia feeling the pull of the memory guiding her behind the one who had not spoken. She whimpered and cried behind him, going unnoticed by the memory Death Eater/murderer, following him through the ground level of the modest home. What on earth this particular memory had to do with her was simply beyond her comprehension at this point.

Whimpers escaped her parted lips as she wrapped her arms around her chest in a self-embrace, following the man through the few rooms before they entered through the final door. A light was on in this room, Octavia peeking over his shoulder as she realised that it was a kitchen. A very small one at that, with a dining table in it! How strange.

Octavia hardly noticed the peculiarity, however, for her pained attention was swiftly caught by a young child sitting on the floor by the refrigerator. The white fridge contained a bright light that illuminated the toddler who sat in front of the ajar door.

The Death Eater gripped his wand tightly as he stepped further into the kitchen with silent footsteps, Octavia following him as the door shut quietly behind them. The toddler had yet to notice the arrival of the murderous man, happily devouring a tub of ice-cream on the floor. Octavia stepped around the Death Eater, tilting her head as she observed the blonde curly haired toddler curiously.

The girl seemed to be quite content as she consumed chocolate ice-cream straight from the tub, seemingly unphased by the sounds of screams outside and the earlier gunshot. She was so young though, that she probably didn't understand what was happening. Octavia would estimate her age at two years old, give or take.

The cloaked Death Eater raised his wand, aiming it at the back of the child's head, but no spell or curse was issued. He remained still and silent as he watched her. Octavia prayed to God that he didn't kill the child; she would never survive the second-hand memory.

The toddler grunted as she stumbled to her little bare feet, throwing the empty tub of ice-cream behind the fridge and slamming the door shut. The light from the kitchen appliance no longer penetrated the kitchen, but the lightbulb above did.

A gasp escaped Octavia's lips as the girl turned around, recognising the child as herself. It was her. Their resemblance was obvious, but perhaps Octavia only saw it as she looked at her own face every day. But she knew. She was the child; the child was her.

Tight blonde ringlets framed the innocent and chocolate-smeared face of the young Octavia, plump lips swollen from the coldness of the ice-cream and hazel eyes as wide as saucers. The child blinked at the Death Eater, tilting her head curiously before she beamed and raised her hands, gesturing to him that she wanted to be picked up.

The Death Eater remained still, wand raised and aimed at the girl, but he didn't hex or curse her. He seemed to be observing her with interest and … hesitance? It was difficult to tell, given the mask that concealed his face.

"Up!" The child pouted, jumping up and down on the spot. "Up!"

Slowly, the man tucked his wand into his pocket before waving his gloved hand and dispersing the mask with wandless magic. Octavia sobbed wretchedly, dropping to her knees as her father was revealed, blood coating his robes and spots of the crimson liquid on his stoic face. She screamed to the heavens as her face scrunched up and she gazed miserably at her father. The father she loved so dearly, but the very same one who appeared to not be her father at all.

Dropping to his knee in front of the child, Octavia screaming all the while, Leonardo extended his hand to the child and beckoned her closer. The toddler smiled and ran over to him, instantly pulling at his hood as though she would find the strange disappearing mask in there somewhere.

Leonardo watched the curious child as she climbed onto him, slithering around clumsily as she searched for the mask. He frowned as she somehow managed to get stuck over his shoulder, her head buried in his hood as she squirmed and mumbled disjointed sentences.

"Tatty!" Leonardo snapped, a house-elf apparating right into the kitchen beside the current Octavia.

Screams ripped through the air, seemingly coming from upstairs, the sound belonging to a woman. Current Octavia sat on the floor, her back against the kitchen cabinets as she hugged her knees to her chest, crying horridly. The house-elf, that belonged to her father to this day, bowed deeply as Leonardo lifted the toddler from him and placed her on the floor. He observed her curiously for a moment, watching silently as she yawned and rubbed her eyes with little fists.

"Take her to the manor." Leonardo ordered, never taking his gaze from the sweet child. "Arrange a portkey for the morning. My wife may wish to meet the child."

"My Lord?" Tatty blinked, his eyes almost bulging out of his face.

"Now!" Leonardo bellowed, the girl flinching at the scary sound.

Leonardo noticed her fear, softening his expression as he cupped her small cheek.

"Do not be afraid, child." Leonardo drawled, employing his gentler tone. It was still firm and aristocratic, but it was as gentle as he could sound. "What is your name?"

"Co … Cor … Co-rrr-ih-lee." The child attempted to pronounce her name, frowning in annoyance at her failure.

"Coryli?" Leonardo asked, the girl nodding vigorously in response. "You are going home, Coryli; would you like that?"

The girl nodded and smiled, wiping the ice-cream residue from her face as she yawned again. Tatty bowed deeply, approaching the sleepy toddler and taking her hand. The child gazed curiously at the house-elf, smiling tiredly as she prodded its long nose and giggled.

The house-elf apparated out of the kitchen as Leonardo rose and replaced his mask, concealing his face with the object. The surroundings began to blur and vaporise, the memory coming to an end—The memory of how Coryli became Octavia Zabini.

* * *

A/N: There is a poll on my profile about my self-published work, if you want to take a look.


	9. Chapter 9

Octavia sat at the bottom of the shower, the scalding hot water raining down on her as she screamed at the top of her lungs. Everything she had ever known, everything that she had ever been made to believe, was all a lie. Everything.

The numbness cracked, the vacancy gone, and Octavia was left with the remains of her inner anguish. The pain, the rawness of her agony, it all consumed her. Her naked body burned from the contact with the hot water, leaving red and angry marks in its wake. But she didn't care. She barely felt it over the pain inside of her.

The tears she cried were lost in the water that washed over her, but it never washed away her pain. Only the evidence of it.

Her screams went unheard through the manor, drowned out by the music blaring in her destroyed bedroom. The collage on the wall now lay scattered on the floor, shards of glass embedded deep into the fluffy white carpet of her bedroom. Her belongings – jewellery, clothes, collectables, mirrors, everything – were broken and destroyed in her fit of rage.

Not only were her parents Death Eaters, they weren't even her parents. She was a muggle, stolen in the dead of night from her murdered parents, and brought into the centre of the snake pit. The parents who she loved so dearly had lied to her for her entire life, preaching on the preservation of the bloodlines, to which she didn't belong. Her blood was not of theirs; it was of muggles.

Octavia Zabini was not Octavia Zabini; she was Coryli. She didn't even have a surname. She had no identity. She had nothing but lies and deceit and pain.

Would Blaise still love her if he knew? Did he know already? Was she the only one in the dark regarding her true origin?

Draco …

What would he say? What would he _do_? Octavia would wager a bet that it wouldn't be nice. It would be horrendous if he discovered the truth. _When_ he discovered the truth.

He would break off their engagement, that much she knew. Draco was a blood supremacist to his core; he harboured undiluted and monstrous hate for all things not of blood purity. There was not a chance in hell that he'd marry her once he knew the truth.

That fact should have elated Octavia. She wanted to escape him, didn't she? Yes. But why did the thought of him rejecting her completely tear at the scraps of her soul? Why did it destroy her more than she ever thought possible?

Once satisfied that the vomit she had previously upchucked no longer stained her body or curls, Octavia groaned as she pushed herself to her feet. It was a difficult task; to stand. It took all remnants of the energy that she did not possess. Her legs quaked and buckled beneath her, Octavia falling to the shower ground several times before she was successful.

Not caring that Pinky stood in the bathroom, crying silently, Octavia stepped out of the shower, naked and raw. The house-elf only seemed to cry harder at the reddened skin of Octavia as she snivelled and moved her weighed-down legs over to the mirror. She didn't spare a glance at her undoubtedly ghastly appearance as she reached the shattered mirror. Octavia grabbed her clothes and pulled them on slowly, her movements lazy and dazed.

After Octavia pulled on her silk dress, she turned and staggered into the mess that was her bedroom, making her way lazily toward the chest of drawers. Hiccups and sniffs came from the distraught girl, Pinky at her heels as she grabbed an overnight bag and began to fill it with clothes.

She couldn't stay here. She couldn't see her parents in the morning for breakfast. She couldn't face the impostors.

Her heart wouldn't survive it.

The wards of the manor prevented her from leaving without an escort. But she had to try.

Slinging the bag over her shoulder, O's blood-shot and glassy hazel eyes met Pinky's apprehensive gaze. The elf was in the same distressed state as Octavia, but O didn't care. She only cared about her own pain in that moment.

Extending her hand, Octavia maintained her stare with the sobbing elf who began to shake her head vigorously.

"Pinkys cannot, Mistress." The elf whimpered and whined, pulling at her floppy ears anxiously. "Mistress is not to leaves the manor."

"What did father say to you?" Octavia asked in a gravelly voice, wrecked from the sobs she endured. "What were his exact orders?"

"Lady Octavia is to not leave the manor withouts escorts." Pinky whimpered, Octavia's dazed mind searching for a loop-hole.

"You are my escort," Octavia hiccupped, flexing her fingers impatiently. Waiting for Pinky to take her outstretched hand. Waiting to be taken away from the monsters.

Pinky whined, whacking herself on the head repeatedly as Octavia just watched, too engulfed in her own misery to care. After a few moments of self-inflicted pain, Pinky moaned and took her Mistress' hand, their watery eyes connected.

"Take me to the Leaky Cauldron," Octavia ordered, her voice possessing no authority; only misery.

The house-elf reluctantly apparated them both to the little damp passageway behind the Leaky Cauldron, which served as the entrance to Diagon Alley. Octavia glanced around the back of the pub, seeing that there were no others around in the dingy lane. She immediately tightened her grip on Pinky's hand before pulling the hood of her black robes over her head, thereby concealing her identity from the pub's patrons. Octavia dragged the unwilling house-elf into the dank establishment, both of them going unnoticed by the pub-goers they pushed passed.

When they reached the streets of muggle London, Octavia looked down at Pinky.

"Summon the Knight Bus," Octavia demanded, the elf nodding before closing her big glassy eyes.

Pinky stuck out her bony little arm, her hand clenched into a fist with one long thumb sticking up as she summoned the Wizarding method of public transportation.

Octavia now knew that the Knight Bus would not respond to her beckon, as she was not magical. Not even in the slightest, with dormant magic. She was a muggle and the Knight Bus did not come to those.

A three-decker blue bus appeared on the street, screeching to a halt as it bent inwards before expanding. A slimy bony wizard jumped out of the bus and picked the green spinach from his yellow teeth as he eyed Octavia with mild interest. As her robes concealed her identity, she was certain that his intrigue had peaked, but she paid him no mind.

Letting go of Pinky's hand, Octavia snapped her fingers at the bus conductor, indicating for him to take her bag. He sucked his shiny plaque-stained teeth with his tongue before taking the bag from the silent woman, and stepping aside to allow her passage.

Pinky disapparated instantly, either desperate to return to the manor and snitch on her, or was being summoned by another Zabini. Either way, it was not good for O.

"Quickly!" Octavia snapped at the loitering conductor on the street, kicking him into gear.

"Alrigh'," the greasy man mumbled, hopping onto the bus before it took off at a nauseating speed.

Octavia gripped onto the handle bars as she made her way through the bottom level of the swaying and bouncing bus, settling herself on the edge of bed with tacky sheets. The conductor had followed her, tossing her overnight bag next to her on the double bed. She watched beneath the safety of her hood as he effortlessly leaned against a pole, the bus wobbling and speeding through the muggle streets of London.

"The name's Stanley," he introduced, Octavia remaining silent. "But ye can call me Stan. Where ye goin' then?"

"A train station in London, please."

"Which one, luv?" Stan asked, furrowing his brows as he tried to glimpse her face beneath the shadows of the hood.

Octavia shrugged, fishing out a few sickles from her robes and handing it to him. "The nearest one."

The greasy looking conductor nodded once, Octavia grimacing as she assessed his acne through the concealment of her hood. His bony fingers snatched the transport-fee from her outstretched hand, stuffing it into his pocket before shouting to the driver.

"Nearest train station, Ernie!"

The bus driver didn't respond, but tiny heads that dangled from above Ernie did.

"Hold onto your seatbelts, witches and wizards!" One of the shrunken three heads warned.

The problem was, there were no seatbelts to hold onto.

Octavia shrieked as the bus abruptly halted in his swift pace, the wizard-born muggle flying off the bed and colliding harshly with the floor. Octavia grunted as she connected with the cheap linoleum floor of the Knight Bus, groaning as she pushed herself to her feet unsteadily.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya!" The head cackled, Stanley's eyes widening as she stood, her identity revealed.

"Now what's the Zabini heiress doin' on the Knight Bus, eh?" Stan blurted, his shaggy brows raised.

Octavia sighed, pulling her hood back over her head and ignoring his question entirely. She stomped over to the bed, grabbing her overnight bag and marching through the bus toward the entrance.

"Don't see that every day now, do ya?" Stan asked the three heads as they all watched the Zabini princess jump out of the bus and onto the muggle street outside.

With the overnight bag slung over her shoulder, Octavia strolled through the maze of courts and streets, receiving a few peculiar glances from nearby residents. The muggles of the houses she walked by were evidently perplexed and intrigued by the cloaked figure, but Octavia kept the hood over her face and continued on, paying them no mind.

It had taken Octavia little more than two hours to reach Heathgate, Hampstead, after jumping on a few wrong buses and trains along the way. The overly extensive duration of her transit had caused Octavia great anxieties, for each passing minute brought her parents closer to discovering her absence. Pinky may have ratted her out after apparating back to the manor, therefore her parents may already be searching for her. If she was lucky, however, Octavia's disappearance wouldn't be noticed until the morning come breakfast.

Either way, they would look for her, and she didn't doubt that this would be the first place they would search: Hermione Granger's home in the muggle town of Heathgate. Octavia knew that her family would find her there, but she didn't care. Her intentions were not to flee permanently; that would just result in being found again, with much more severe consequences than before. She might never be allowed a smidgen of freedom again.

It was Octavia's intention to merely escape for a night. She needed to be away from the manor and process her discoveries. The revelations of her true origin, the true natures of her parents.

As she wandered through the muggle streets, searching for the address that she previously sent postcards to whilst on the run, her dazed mind churned with the revelations. Octavia was beginning to realise that perhaps the information could be used to her advantage. Perhaps, after she was found and brought home to the manor, she could enlighten Draco to the truth about her blood. It was a sure way to repel him from her, and thereby end their engagement.

No pureblood would want to marry her, given the truth about her blood status. Octavia would relay the truth to Draco, who would undoubtedly repeat it to others in an act of retaliation for the deceit. It was then that she would be free.

Turning onto Meadow Lane, Octavia grunted as she adjusted the weight of her overnight bag, moving it from one pained shoulder to the other. The Lane was relatively small, so it wasn't long before Octavia reached the humble two story house, bordered with a white fence and a modest garden at the front of the building.

Pushing through the gate, Octavia licked her dry lips anxiously, removing her hood and exhaling heavily. She had never met Ninny's parents before, so she was a tad apprehensive to encounter them. Particularly when she was dressed in such formal attire – by muggle standards, at least – and sporting red, blood-shot eyes and a miserable expression. The thought of forcing polite pleasantries in that moment seemed like a daunting and impossible task indeed.

The sunny Saturday sun beamed down on Octavia, her body perspiring from her long walk and travels. Smoothing out her messy curls, Octavia attempted to make herself relatively presentable as she approached the door to the home. Raising her clammy hand, clenched into a fist, Octavia knocked on the door firmly before straightening out her pristine gown and cloak.

After a few moments of anxious waiting, footsteps were heard nearing from inside the home, a man's gruff voice muffled by the door. The door swung open, revealing a middle-aged muggle man, a little rough around the edges, but soft eyes.

"Yeah?" The man frowned, standing in the doorway as he eyed O's robes with mild interest.

"I … uh," Octavia mumbled. "I'm a friend … of Hermione's. I just … Is she home?"

"No," the man shook his head. "She's at work at the moment. You can come in and wait for her though? She shouldn't be long."

"Oh," Octavia nodded meekly.

She hadn't thought about Hermione not being at home. If she wasn't uncomfortable before, she definitely was now.

"In you come," the man smiled at her nervous expression, stepping to the side to allow her passage into the home.

Octavia smiled weakly in response, stepping through the threshold and glancing around the home curiously. As she had lived in the muggle world for two and a half years, Octavia was no stranger to the muggle ornaments and devices around her. She was not confused by the unmoving photographs on the wall, nor was she perplexed by the telephone on the buffet table. But she had always found herself to be rather interested and intrigued by the modesty of the muggle homes in residential areas. They were always so small and humble, but she assumed that her interest was due to her lavish upbringing and family's wealth.

"What's your name?" Hermione's father asked, closing the front door and leading her down the hallway.

"I'm Octavia Zabini, sir." Octavia answered distractedly, taking in her surroundings as she followed him through a door. "I know Hermione from Hogwarts."

"Ah," he nodded, both of them entering the kitchen. "I figured that from the robes you're wearing."

Octavia only nodded as he gestured for her to seat herself at the small dining table in the kitchen, taking her overnight bag from her. Octavia watched as he placed the bag on the kitchen counter, plopping herself down at the dining table as her attention moved to a woman.

"I'm John Granger, Hermione's dad," the man introduced before waving his hand toward the woman by the kettle. "And this is Jane, my wife of thirty years. Janie, is Octavia; one of Hermione's friends."

"Yes, yes, I heard." Jane smiled. "Would you like some tea, Octavia?"

"Oh, that would be lovely, thank you." Octavia nodded, folding her hands on her lap and crossing her ankles as she sat with poise. "Any flavour will do."

Jane nodded, turning her back on the visitor to prepare the beverages as John sat across from Octavia.

"Is Hermione expecting you?" John asked, glancing at the overnight bag. "She didn't say anything about visitors, so we haven't prepared unfortunately."

"Oh, uh … I just thought it would be nice to surprise her." Octavia blushed. "I should have … realised that she'd be at work. I'm sorry to impose."

"It's no imposition," Jane smiled, carrying a tray of cups and teapots over to the table. "We're always glad to meet Hermione's friends, and we've heard so much about you for many years. We're delighted to meet you, dearie. I'm sure she'll be pleased to see you too."

Octavia inclined her head in a gesture of gratitude, the three of them falling into a silence as Jane prepared the teas. Octavia clasped her hands around the mug of English Breakfast tea, pulling it closer to her as Jane seated herself beside John.

In an effort to break the now uncomfortable silence, John cleared his throat as he stirred sugar into his tea.

"So, Hermione mentioned that you travelled for some time in our world."

"Yes, just over two years, sir."

"How did you find it?" Jane asked. "Is it much different to your own?"

"Quite different," Octavia nodded. "In a good way, I think."

"How's that?" John asked, picking up his mug and sipping the tea.

"Well, the … expectations are different, I suppose." Octavia mumbled, not wishing to delve into the complexities of her culture and society. "Everyone is very … accepting and understanding."

"Not like your people?" John frowned.

"Well, it's different with my society."

"Yes, I recall that Hermione attended a formal Ball at your home a few years ago." Jane nodded. "We do not have many Balls in our world."

"We have frequent gatherings," Octavia conceded. "Several times a year, in fact. Although I do enjoy them at times."

"But it isn't all of the Wizarding World that participates, is it?" John asked. "I recall Hermione mentioning that your society is a world within the Wizarding community."

"Yes," O smiled. "It's a … We're of ancient pureblood lineage. We mostly keep to ourselves."

"I see," John clipped.

"I just found out today, though, that I'm not … of the same bloodlines. That's why I came here." Octavia smiled weakly, her eyes watering. "She's … It's the only place I thought to go to."

"Your family is not of the ancient bloodlines?" Jane asked, frowning in confusion and sympathy for the watery-eyed girl.

The sound of the front door opening caught their attention, all gazes turning to the kitchen door. The silence remained as Hermione entered the home, calling out for her mum and dad as a few bangs were heard. It was only a few moments before Hermione entered the kitchen, stopping in surprise as she spotted Octavia rising from her seat.

"Hey," Octavia smiled, Hermione's eyes wide with shock.

"O!" Hermione gasped, briskly closing the distance between them and pulling her into an embrace. "What are you doing here? I thought … You said you weren't allowed to see me for a while."

Octavia removed her hold on Ninny, Jane getting up to prepare more tea for her daughter.

"I needed to see you," Octavia whispered, Hermione noticing the pain in her glassy hazel eyes immediately. "I had to come. I hope you don't mind … I just-"

"What happened?" Hermione interrupted softly, taking her hands and guiding them both into parallel seats at the dining table. "Did Malfoy do something to you?"

"No," Octavia lied, shaking her head. That was a story for another day, if ever.

"Octavia, talk to me," Hermione persuaded gently, holding O's hands in hers. "What happened?"

Octavia's tears welled up in her anguished eyes, a memory coming back to her with brutal force. Her body began to tense as she warded off the sobs that threatened to strike her, tears leaking from her big hazel eyes.

"I … found a memory in father's …" Octavia tried to explain through the sniffs and pain in her heart. "It … I'm not their daughter, Ninny. I never was."

"What?" Hermione raised her brows, her grip on O's hands tightening. "What was the memory, O? What do you mean?"

"I'm … I'm," Octavia blubbered, her face scrunching up as tears streamed down her anguished face. "I'm a muggle."

Hermione's lips parted, her mouth shaped into an 'o' as she gaped at her snivelling friend. Hermione had always suspected that O was not a true Zabini, given the difference in appearance, but had always thought that her origin remained in the pureblood world.

"A muggle?" Hermione repeated in shock, Jane and John watching the scene intently. "A … _How_?"

"They … took me … from …" Octavia spoke between hiccups and sobs, trying her best to string a sentence together. "From … muggles … they … were … Death Eaters and … took me."

"What?!"

"I … I …" Octavia groaned, tears collecting at her damp lips as she blubbered. "Ninny, I'm not … a wizard-born … I'm just a muggle, and they lied to me! They … were Death Eaters, Ninny! They took me … when I was a toddler … from the kitchen and they … they … they … I think they killed my real parents!"

The blonde broke down in a fit of hysterical sobs, Hermione flying from her seat and wrapping her arms around O's violently shaking body. Hermione glanced at her wide-eyed parents as she held O tightly, the newly discovered muggle sobbing wretchedly.

Hermione had no idea what to do, and that was saying something. So she did the only thing she could in that moment; hold her destroyed friend.

"Na … name," Octavia blubbered and sobbed against Ninny's shoulder. "It … I'm Co … ri … lee …"

Jane dropped the tea-pot she was holding, John freezing in his chair as they stared at the blonde girl with wide eyes. They looked at her as though truly seeing her.

The blonde tight ringlets, the sounds of her child-like cries, the hazel of her eyes, the upturned nose and rosy pink lips.

Hermione slowly released her sobbing friend, staring at O in complete horror and shock, her mouth agape. O snivelled and wiped at her tears, glancing around at the three Grangers with confusion.

It wasn't until Jane spoke in a broken voice that she understood.

" _Coryli_?"


	10. Chapter 10

Octavia would have predicted that sleep would be difficult to come by, given the heightened emotional chaos she had endured the day prior. Yet, there she lay in the bed beside Hermione, her heavy eyelids opening reluctantly as she awoke from a deep and tortured sleep. The emotional distress she was subject to perhaps allowed her brain to shut down for the night, plunging her into a slumber that matched none prior.

Rubbing her fists on her puffy eyes, Octavia emitted a loud and squealy yawn, causing Hermione to stir beside her in the bed. Turning her gaze to her close friend, O allowed her blood-shot eyes to assess the bushy-haired brunette, not seeing the resemblance in the slightest. Only their hair was similar, in the tightness of the curls. Other than the hair, their appearances didn't share any similarities, nor their minds. Yet, they were cousins. A shocking revelation that still had Octavia in a stunned state.

Shaking her head in shocked disbelief, Octavia slipped out of the bed carefully, so as not to wake her friend cousin. In Hermione's baggy pyjama set, Octavia stretched as she stood, her hands raised high above her, leaning up on her tippy-toes, and feeling that surge of physical relaxation and pleasure jolt through her muscles. She glanced wearily at the clock on the single nightstand beside the small bed, dreadful butterflies plaguing her tummy instantly. Not the good kind, but the awful anxious kind.

It was only six in the morning, but Octavia felt sick to her stomach at realising the time. For in two hours, her family would convene for breakfast in the dining room and realise that she was gone. If they didn't already know, that is. She hoped for the former, as it allowed her further scraps of time to arrange her thoughts, clear her mind and process the whirlwind of events from the day prior.

As she snuck quietly out of the bedroom, Octavia tip-toed down the small hallway of the upper-level of the house, making her way to the bathroom. She tried a few doors before finding the correct room, slipping inside and heading straight for the shower. This time, Octavia ensured the water was at a more comfortable temperature than the last time, her body slumping as the warm liquid washed over her.

Standing beneath the muggle shower head, Octavia leaned her back against the cold tiles and shut her eyes, her mind whirling and churning incessantly. She wasn't sure how she was still functioning after the day she had had. Or, more accurately, the life she had. For her existence was little more than a thread in a web of lies, constructed by those she trusted and loved most in this world.

Her father was not only a former Death Eater, but a killer. She had seen him kill the muggle man in the memory- the muggle man who happened to be her father. Leonardo had evidently contemplated killing Octavia when he found her in the kitchen, but didn't follow through, for reasons unknown. Reasons she was determined to learn.

Her mother was once a Death Eater as well. How much she participated in the Wizarding World War was unknown to Octavia, but the moment you slipped on that dreadfully frightening mask, you were a monster in O's opinion. Her sweet, kind and manipulative mother; a monster. Although, she was also O's saviour in a way. Leonardo had said as much in the memory.

' _Arrange a portkey for the morning. My wife may wish to meet the child.'_

Octavia was aware that her mother had spent the duration of her pregnancy, and then some, at Grandfather Lorenzo's plantation in Sicily. That explained the portkey. However, she had been under the impression that her father had been there with her mother. Obviously a lie. And Octavia was an estimated two years old in the memory, so her mother had clearly spent further time at the run-down plantation during the war. It was needless to say that when O was brought to Mediana, the Italian woman had decided to keep her as her own.

That part perplexed O beyond belief.

It was evident that her parents loathed muggles and those of impure blood, at least during those times. So why had they decided to keep a muggle child as their daughter? It made no sense to Octavia.

Furthermore, what had they done to assist her transition into a new life with new parents? Had they wiped her memories of her murdered parents? Octavia knew that to perform memory charms on a child was a dangerous task. Then again, her father was incredibly skilled in his magical abilities, so would likely face no challenges in doing so.

But what about Blaise?

Was his memory tampered with to accept that she was his sister as a child? Or had he blindly accepted her regardless and forgotten the truth with time? Did he know? To this day, did Blaise know of her true origin?

Octavia hoped not. Her heart shredded and clenched wretchedly at the thought.

There was no doubt in O's mind that Draco was not aware of her concealed blood status, for he would never pursue a mudblood. To Draco, blood purity was of the upmost importance. She had learned that once he had discovered her false 'wizard-born' status, and had therefore made it his priority to torment and torture her at every opportunity. His young and innocent love for her when children was dismissed the moment he learned of her lack of magical abilities, and made sure to teach her of her unworthiness. Her inferiority. And that was when he was under the misbelief that her blood was ancient and pure.

She shuddered to think of the retaliation she would be subject to when he learned the truth. And he would learn of the truth, that was for certain. Octavia would ensure it. For with the revelation, came freedom. For her, at least.

A voice from the hallway hauled Octavia from her thoughts, the muggle shaking her head as she came back to her current surroundings. The water that rained down on her had dropped in temperature, her body now plagued with goosebumps from the cold. How long had she been in the shower?

Octavia didn't know. It wasn't uncommon. It appeared that Octavia did not know many things.

Groaning in reluctance and discomfort, Octavia turned off the taps to the shower and stepped out into the bathroom, drying herself off lazily. She sighed as she pulled on the muggle attire she had brought with her in her overnight bag. The jeans and t-shirt were the only pieces of muggle clothing that weren't destroyed by the house-elves when she had first returned home just over two weeks ago. Two weeks and four days to be precise. But it felt like an eternity. As though those days in the muggle world had never happened at all. A blurry dream that she couldn't grasp in the fog of her mind.

Octavia hurriedly towel-dried her blonde curls, not caring that the harsh treatment was causing her hair to grow wilder by the second. She tossed the towel onto the floor before heading toward the door, but stopped in her tracks. Biting her bottom lip, Octavia scurried over to the towel, picked it and threw it into the laundry basket. She wasn't home anymore, so there were no servants to clean up after her unfortunately.

Oh. That also meant that there was no one to make her breakfast and her morning coffee. Bummer.

Humming in annoyance, Octavia pouted as she pushed through the door and swiftly scurried through the home, down the stairs and to the kitchen. Perhaps it was presumptuous of her to help herself in Hermione's home – even if she technically was family – but Octavia couldn't care less about that. The cravings for a coffee fix were too great to be ignored in favour of polite behaviour.

* * *

As she entered the kitchen, Octavia momentarily froze as she spotted Jane by the counter, preparing breakfast apparently. She quickly composed herself as Jane noticed her entrance to the room, both smiling at the other. Although O's smile was a tad forced and awkward. How did one act with a long-lost relative, after being stolen by killers and thrown into a magical world filled with wealth and riches? O wasn't sure.

"Good morning … Octavia," Jane greeted, hesitating on the name. "Coffee?"

"Please," O nodded, seating herself at the dining table expectantly.

Jane smiled as she poured a fresh pot of coffee and took it over to the girl with damp curls, and placed it on the table she sat at.

Jane made no move to return to her task of cooking, but instead, stood by the table and observed Octavia as she pulled the steamy mug closer to her. Hesitantly, Jane raised her hand and hovered it near the blushing face of the uncomfortable girl, debating on whether to touch her or not. After a few moments of awkward silence, Jane settled on resting her hand on O's shoulder gently, her eyes drinking in the beauty of the girl.

"You're so pretty, dear." Jane smiled softly. "You look so much like your grandmother."

"Grandmother?" Octavia repeated, raising her brows as her interest peaked.

She had forgotten about all the other family members that came with the revelations. Her focus had been on her family of lies, those residing in the home she currently occupied, and those killed.

Jane removed her hand and swiftly departed the room, Octavia furrowing her brows in confusion and bemusement. What a strange woman.

After a few moments, Jane returned, carrying a hefty stack of family albums and placing them on the dining table. Ah. O understood now.

She watched patiently as Jane riffled through the albums eagerly, stopping only when she found the intended photograph.

"Here," Jane whispered, pushing the album toward O. "That's your grandmother. My mother."

Octavia inspected the muggle photograph that didn't move, her attention caught immediately by a woman that resembled her to a T. Whilst the woman in the photograph was in her mid-thirties and sported black curls, her face was a carbon copy of Octavia's. The woman's eyes were same the size, shape and colour of O's, and her nose upturned in the same refined, yet cute shape as her own.

As Octavia inspected the photograph, Jane retrieved her own mug of coffee and joined her at the table, observing her silently with watery eyes. Octavia tried not to take notice of the woman's tears, finding that it made her a tad uncomfortable. She was certain that Jane was being overwhelmed by once-dormant love for her niece, but Octavia couldn't say that she felt the same. Yes, she harboured a glimmer of affection for the woman due to the recent discoveries, but it wasn't love. How could it be? She didn't know the woman; she only felt a sense of connection with Jane. Not love.

That truly irked Octavia, however. For the love she should have felt for her biological family still resided with her adoptive parents. Even though she loathed and despised Mediana and Leonardo in that moment, one could not simply revoke their love. Octavia wished she could, but it would not happen. Her heart ached inside of her with the agony of what her adoptive parents truly were, but the pain stemmed from her broken heart. It stemmed from the love she had for them.

The love that would never leave, but the love that they did not deserve.

* * *

Moments after receiving the charmed engagement ring from the bribed curse-breakers, Draco had received a most troubling letter from Leonardo Zabini. It had taken Draco little more than two minutes to join the Zabinis in their home, every one of them congregated in the shambles that was Octavia's bedroom. Everything was destroyed, from the nightstands and desk, to the collages and mirrors. The plush white carpet was embedded with shards of glass and wood, dangerous to those without footwear.

At first glance, one may not learn of the cause for the wreckage in the once opulent bedroom. But after a few moments of searching, Draco had found a photograph of Death Eaters, featuring his own parents and Octavia's. Instantly he understood her violent tantrum of despair and the chaos it had caused. Moments after, Blaise discovered a small phial amidst the debris; one that Leonardo recognised instantly.

The Zabini patriarch had not spoken since seeing that phial, concealing it in his pocket as he sat on the edge of the bed, face buried in his hands. The occasional sniffs that came from the man indicated that he was enduring tears of misery, Mediana seated beside him, her hand on his back and rubbing in smooth circles of comfort. Although the woman was in a worsened state than her husband, her blood-shot eyes filled with tears and frequent sobs escaping her painted red lips.

Standing in the centre of the debris, Draco ran his fingers through his blonde hair in exasperation, not even glancing down at the bloodied elf at his feet. Blaise crouched down by the wall, his back leaning against it as he shut his eyes in emotional agony. No one spoke, for the pain was communicated without words. Each one of them was in total despair and misery, Draco's heart wrenching emotions laced with incredible bouts of rage.

Octavia had run away before, however. And he had found her then, at the ends of the earth. He would do it again. Nothing would stop him from finding her. She was his, and he treasured his possessions dearly.

If needed, he would burn the world to ashes in order to find her. He would destroy anyone and anything in his path. He would do anything to return her to him, and he would never let her go again.

The ring in his pocket guaranteed it.

* * *

Hand in hand, Octavia and Hermione walked through the charming muggle street, cute little cottages erected around them. Some houses were new, others old, but they all shared one thing in common: Octavia recognised them. It was a mere glimmer of familiarity, but it was enough to know where Hermione was taking her. To the place where it all began.

Unlike the memory in the pensieve, the scene of the street was clear, detailed and precise. Octavia's mind couldn't help but morph the current and past together, seeing the cottages aflame with roaring fire, hearing the echoes of the screams around her, watching her father walk through the terrified chaos of fleeing muggles.

Shaking her head in an attempt to toss the memory from her mind, Octavia gripped Hermione's hand a little tighter as they drew closer to the home they journeyed to. As they stopped in front of the house, Octavia realised that it was somewhat different. Structurally it was the same, but now the iron fence was a hedge, and the gardens much lusher than before. If she had to guess, O would predict that it was now the home of an elderly couple; a couple that indulged in gardening to fill their days of retirement.

"Are you ready?" Hermione asked in a gentle tone, so soft that it was almost a whisper.

Octavia nodded, not finding the strength within her to answer verbally. That, and it was as though there was a lump in her throat, preventing speech.

Hermione shot Octavia a side-glance, eyeing the apprehensive expression worriedly. She squeezed her soft hand reassuringly before pushing through the wooden gate and guiding her up the small pathway. Hermione slipped out her wand as Octavia knocked feebly on the door to the home, both girls waiting in complete silence. After a bit of fumbling around, an elderly man opened the door and regarded the two girls curiously through his narrow spectacles.

Ninny raised her wand and firmly flicked it to the right. "Confundus."

The moment she issued the spell, the elderly man blinked as he entered a confused daze, Hermione and Octavia stepping by him into the home. An old woman's voice could be heard from the room to the left, calling out for her husband. Octavia followed Ninny through the door and watched as she confused the woman with the same spell as before.

Satisfied, the girls inspected the room with mild interest before re-entering the hallway. Octavia swallowed as she glanced around the familiar space, redecorated, but not to an unrecognisable point. The staircase was in the same position and the same painted white as before. The doors that led to each room remained in the same position as in the memory. Octavia noticed the door at the end of the corridor, remembering it to be the kitchen. She spared one last glance to the base of the stairs, where her dead father had fallen, before striding toward the kitchen and pushing through harshly.

Tears welled up in O's big hazel eyes as she inhaled sharply, her gaze dragging from one end of the kitchen to the other. Again, it had been remodelled, and now featured tacky wallpaper and place mats made from crochet. But Octavia recognised it regardless.

The dining table stood in the same corner as before, the refrigerator against the wall like in the memory. Other than the ghastly decorations and aroma of off-milk, the kitchen was the same as before. Octavia exhaled deeply, closing her eyes as she attempted to control the violent waves of emotions within her, placing her hand on Hermione's arm for comfort.

Flashes of the memory assaulted Octavia as she resisted to urge to scream. The man laying at the bottom of the stairs, his neck twisted and shattered beyond repair. Lucius Malfoy speaking to her father before ascending the staircase, only to kill another – if the recollection of a woman's scream was anything to go by. Worst of all; Octavia meeting her father for the first time ever, under the most despicable of circumstances. She now stood in the very room that it had occurred.

Walking over to the fridge, Octavia swallowed back a sob, tears trickling down her cheeks as she observed the room. She didn't really know why Hermione had brought her here, but she was glad that she did. It provided a sense of closure, if at all possible.

But with closure came the pain. It took only two minutes of observing the room before Octavia had dropped to her knees and allowed the agony to consume her. The pain, the despair and the heartache.

Hermione moved to sit beside her on the linoleum floor, remaining silent as she cried quietly, neither girl moving for a solid hour. Neither girl moving until Octavia had no more tears left to cry.

The night had come, and the sun had gone. Moonlight illuminated the muggle streets as Hermione and Octavia apparated into Meadow Lane, a loud crack resounding through the area. It was sure to wake the sleeping residents of the street, so Hermione and O wasted not a moment before scurrying into the Granger residence, quietly shutting the door behind them.

Shrugging off her leather jacket, Octavia tossed it onto the buffet table as Hermione walked toward the kitchen. Falling into step behind her, Octavia yawned ungracefully, rubbing at her tired eyes as she followed Ninny through the swing door.

"Ow," Octavia scowled as she walked right into Hermione's back. "Can you not?"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the scowling muggle before returning her gaze to the dining table and stepping to the side. Octavia's eyes widened momentarily at the scene before she deflated visibly and accepted her fate. She had expected this at some point during the day or next, so she could hardly claim to be surprised. Taken off guard? Yes. But surprised? Hardly.

Leonardo and Blaise sat at the dining table with Jane and John Granger, the two muggles in a tranquil state, suggesting that they were under a spell of sorts. Whether it was the confundus charm or imperius curse was unknown. Either way, it hardly mattered.

Her adoptive father met her gaze instantly, his black eyes reddened somewhat, indicating that he had been rather upset to discover her disappearance. And undoubtedly distressed at the reason for her escape. Blaise's eyes told the same tale, both Zabini men assessing Octavia with solemn expressions.

"I'll get my bag," Octavia mumbled, Hermione snapping her attention to her newly-found cousin instantly.

"What?" Hermione spat incredulously. "Are you … _going with them_?"

Octavia shrugged lamely, averting her gaze to the floor as she appeared rather downcast and ashamed.

"I have to," Octavia mumbled, shuffling her feet anxiously at the anger radiating from Hermione.

"No you do not!" Hermione bit in outrage before turning her gaze to the Zabinis at the table. "She is not going anywhere with either of you!"

Leonardo rose elegantly from the chair, straightening out his impeccable robes as he raised his chin. He didn't spare Hermione a single glance, and instead, kept his sorrowful gaze on Octavia.

"We have already acquired your belongings," Leonardo drawled, his voice a little hoarse. "Your bag is back at the manor in your bedroom; which has been repaired and prepared for your return home."

Octavia bit her bottom lip as Hermione turned her wide eyes to her, her body tense with infuriation and disbelief.

"You're not going with them, Octavia!" Hermione shouted, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "You're not their family! You will stay here with your real family!"

Blaise abruptly stood from the chair, his stormy black eyes on an outraged Hermione, wand in hand, raised at the bushy-haired witch. It took Hermione less than a second to repeat the action and raise her own wand.

"Octavia is coming home, where she belongs." Leonardo drawled, dismissing the muggle-born with disinterest.

"Make no mistake of it, Granger. We are her family, regardless of what her blood claims. Octavia is my sister, and I will not tolerate contradictory statements."

"You don't have to go with them, O." Hermione said, her eyes and wand never tearing away from Blaise. "You can stay here. They can't control you anymore, O. You're one of us, not them."

Octavia smiled sadly at the fierce Gryffindor, placing her hand on her wrist to lower the wand. Hermione raised her brows, her eyes darting between Blaise and Octavia as her brows furrowed.

"I have to go with them," Octavia whispered, attempting to soothe Hermione's anger. "Please, I know you don't understand, but I can't see any more fighting."

Hermione's brown eyes burned with the tears of her indignation and concern, dropping her arm to her side.

"Fine," Hermione clipped, raising her chin defiantly as she turned her stare to Leonardo. "But if you think that I won't report this to the Ministry, you've got another thing coming. Breaking and entering, murder and kidnapping? You'll be in Azkaban before the week is out."

"I thought as much," Leonardo drawled, his gaze remaining on his daughter. "Apologies, Miss Granger, but I am sure you can understand my reasoning."

Hermione frowned before the Zabini patriarch flicked his hand in the air, immobilising her instantly with wandless magic. Blaise clenched his jaw before waving his wand and casting a memory charm on the muggle-born witch, Leonardo performing the same spells on the Grangers at the table.

Octavia allowed stray tears to run down her face as she watched the memories of the revelations dissolve in the minds of the Grangers, all knowledge of the truth removed. She made no protests, however, for to prevent it would be to allow the Grangers to retain the knowledge. And with that, would come her father's imprisonment in Azkaban.

Octavia might have loathed her father to her core in that moment, but she loved him to her core also.

Once finished tampering with Hermione's mind, Blaise slipped his wand back into his pocket as he approached Octavia. His arms swiftly wrapped around her, pulling her shaky body against his as the sobs took hold, Octavia whimpering and weeping in his arms. Leonardo clenched his jaw as he watched, wishing to go to his daughter and provide the same comfort, but knowing that she would reject it. So he merely watched, his eyes watering at the sounds of her emotional and mental distress, only his son comforting his daughter.

Blaise had been correct in what he had said. No matter what Octavia's blood claimed, Blaise was her brother. There was no debating the matter. It was never clearer than in this moment.


End file.
